I've been thinking about her lately, my grandma that is. Her birthday is coming, but she's not here. Well not the kind of here
I wish she were. She's always the kind of here in my heart. However, it isn't exactly the same now, is it? My very imperfectly perfect for me grandma, with the big hazel eyes and quiet, yes dear, demeanor. My grandma that once wore dangly earrings, cat eyeglasses with a chain, and flowered dresses or blouses.Sometimes she smelled like Sweet Honesty, and sometimes like Obsession. My grandma that got pregnant, and married,way too young. My grandma that told me all the stories she could tolerate, because I asked. She met my grandpa at the skating rink.Growing up she spent a lot of time at her grandparents' house. It was easier than being at her own home.Her father seemed to understand her better than her mother. When she was a teenager, she once ran away with a friend. There was a time that my favorite place to be, was with my grandma. We would watch the old Addams Family reruns, and eat malllomars. She took me with her to the used paperback bookstore, and we'd trade boxes of books to read. She always kept a saltine cracker in the sugar container. A glass jar of spoons on the kitchen table.Every Sunday she'd make a special dinner. Sometimes a pot roast, with potatoes and gravy, or chicken and dumplings ,or soup with thick egg noodles. She taught me how to make bread pudding. When I didn't know how to make enchilada sauce. I called my grandma, and she suggested ingredients. On her bedroom door hung there used to be a poster someone gave her that said, "Life is like a beaver colony, just one dam thing after another". My grandma didn't seem judgemental. She may have had an opinion, but she let you tell her anything, and she would love you anyway. She never thought she was good enough, but she learned how to endure with what she had. That's heroic to me.
I wish she were. She's always the kind of here in my heart. However, it isn't exactly the same now, is it? My very imperfectly perfect for me grandma, with the big hazel eyes and quiet, yes dear, demeanor. My grandma that once wore dangly earrings, cat eyeglasses with a chain, and flowered dresses or blouses.Sometimes she smelled like Sweet Honesty, and sometimes like Obsession. My grandma that got pregnant, and married,way too young. My grandma that told me all the stories she could tolerate, because I asked. She met my grandpa at the skating rink.Growing up she spent a lot of time at her grandparents' house. It was easier than being at her own home.Her father seemed to understand her better than her mother. When she was a teenager, she once ran away with a friend. There was a time that my favorite place to be, was with my grandma. We would watch the old Addams Family reruns, and eat malllomars. She took me with her to the used paperback bookstore, and we'd trade boxes of books to read. She always kept a saltine cracker in the sugar container. A glass jar of spoons on the kitchen table.Every Sunday she'd make a special dinner. Sometimes a pot roast, with potatoes and gravy, or chicken and dumplings ,or soup with thick egg noodles. She taught me how to make bread pudding. When I didn't know how to make enchilada sauce. I called my grandma, and she suggested ingredients. On her bedroom door hung there used to be a poster someone gave her that said, "Life is like a beaver colony, just one dam thing after another". My grandma didn't seem judgemental. She may have had an opinion, but she let you tell her anything, and she would love you anyway. She never thought she was good enough, but she learned how to endure with what she had. That's heroic to me.
In worn out shoes
With silver hair, a ragged shirt, and baggy pants
The old soft shoe
He jumped so high, jumped so high
Then he lightly touched down
I met him in a cell in New Orleans I was
down and out
He looked to me to be the eyes of age
as he spoke right out
He talked of life, talked of life, he laughed
clicked his heels and stepped
He said his name "Bojangles" and he danced a lick
across the cell
He grabbed his pants and spread his stance,
Oh he jumped so high and then he clicked his heels
He let go a laugh, let go a laugh
and shook back his clothes all around
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, dance
He danced for those at minstrel shows and county fairs
throughout the south
He spoke through tears of 15 years how his dog and him
traveled about
The dog up and died, he up and died
And after 20 years he still grieves
He said I dance now at every chance in honky tonks
for drinks and tips
But most the time I spend behind these county bars
'cause I drinks a bit
He shook his head, and as he shook his head
I heard someone ask him please
Mr. Bojangles, Mr. Bojangles
Mr. Bojangles, dance..
Artist:Toto
Song: Stop Loving You Lyrics
Reflections in my mind, thoughts I can't define My heart is racing and the night goes onI can almost hear a laugh, coming from your photograph
Funny how a look can share a thousand meanings
Well-intended lies, contemplating alibies
Is it really you, or is it me I'm blaming
A distant memory flashes over me
Even though you're gone, I feel you deep inside
Dance beneath the light with that look in your eyes
I can't stop loving you, time passes quickly and chances are few
I won't stop till I'm through loving you, girl
There's a window in a heart, I've tried to look through from the start
You're never really sure what someone else is thinking
Someone's broken something new, another altered point of view
Just a certain someone's conscience playing
I held it in my hand, I did not understand
What lives inside the wind that cries her name
Tried to catch a shooting star, what seems so close can't be that far
I'm living in a dream that's never ending
Dance beneath the light with that look in your eyes
I can't stop loving you, time passes quickly and chances are few
I won't stop till I'm through loving you, girl
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