Hello and Goodbye

Mimi went back to Kentucky this past week, and boy was it sure a good visit. All the kids loved having her around, but Ava particularly enjoyed it. She looked forward to Mimi being at our house when she got home from school, and on the days that didn't happen she was always so disappointed.

It's not hard to love Mimi. Mostly because she doesn't find it hard to love anyone else. She loves me and she loves you, even if you've never met. She tells me I am the sweetest, most precious thing and that she is so proud of me, almost every time we're in the same room. And she grabs me and kisses me, and pats me, and hugs me. What's not to love?

I was probably seven years old before I realized that not all grandmothers are as sweet as peaches 100% of the time like she is. She couldn't find your faults if you wore them around your neck. She finds a friend wherever she goes, literally. By the time we leave a store, the mall, the cleaners, church, the post office, she always has somebody saying some version of, "Oh Anne! It was so great to meet you! I loved talking with you! Have a great day and take care!" and usually they even say to those who accompany her, "She is just the sweetest lady!"



On that last afternoon before she left, Ava was lucky enough to find Mimi waiting on our sofa after school. She ran in the door and straight to her. "Mimi!"

Ava rested her head on Mimi's lap. I sat next to them and watched Ava's eyes close with pleasure as Mimi pet her hair over and over. And of course, Mimi told her how precious, and wonderful, and smart, and beautiful she was.

And there is just something about Mimi telling you those kinds of things, that even if you don't really feel smart and beautiful and wonderful, you sort of want to try a bit harder and look a bit closer because Mimi means what she says and it comes with such love, it is either true or you want to make it true.

I feel so happy that Ava will have these memories with her great grandmother. I'm going to miss her and her stories, and her hugs, and how she says, "yella" instead of "yellow".

It's hard when people get older and your visits are not so frequent. You can't help but hope that it's not the last time you'll see each other.


Today the missionaries moved into my parent's house. The experience should be interesting among other things. I was upstairs with my boys and my mom when all the guys and their furniture showed up.

I grabbed up Max and tried to get out of the way as quick as I could. We found ourselves standing in the stairway where Max was eye to eye with a collage of pictures of my brother Aaron who died 20 years ago this year.

Max pointed his chubby finger directly at Aaron's face and said with eyes absolutely beaming and smile spread wide, "Aaaaaaah! Aaaaah!"

Joy and happiness welled inside me. "That's Aaron," I said.

"Aaaaah!"

If he could talk I am certain he would have said, "Aaron! I know him!"

What a happy moment today, that I don't think I will ever forget. And what a reassuring reminder handed to me by my baby.


We knew each other before, we know each other now, and we will know each other again.