I believe it’s the first day of spring today. It’s been beautiful for the past week or so. Yesterday, it was 75 in the sun. That’s beautiful in my book.
Due to a massive miscommunication, I ended up with the day off today (not complaining). I decided to take advantage of it. I slept in three hours longer than I normally would have been able to on a Saturday (which is still not very late at all). I got ready for the day, and then decided to for for a drive. I love driving with the windows down and the sun shining; it doesn’t matter where I’m going, as long as I’m on my way.
I figured I’d go to Barnes and Noble and get some new books to read, since my most recent read is a book I’ve already read three times prior. Time for new books. So I took the back roads to my favorite Barnes and Noble, browsed the shelves for about a half hour, and finally settled on two classics: Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, (I never read it in High School, instead, I read A Separate Peace [incidentally, a fantastic book]) and Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.
A very nice man in line in front of me smiled and asked me how my day was going. “Very well, thank you,” I replied with a smile. It wasn’t a lie, I was in a fantastic mood. After I paid, I decided to stop at Starbucks. My drink came out perfectly.
On my way home, as often happens to me on such days, I had an overwhelming urge to go visit my Grandma. I was in her neck of the woods, and I usually stop in to see her on beautiful afternoons. This is the first time, however, that this has happened to me since she passed away. I immediately lost the smile on my face, and it was replaced with the same agony I felt when I found out she had died. Tears were pouring down my face and my head started pounding with the harsh reality that I’d never again be able to stop and visit her on such days.
How nice it would have been to sip my Starbucks in her sun-soaked living room while discussing my newest book purchases and asking what she had read recently. I tried to shake it off, remembering that she is in a “better place” and that it was still a beautiful day, but I couldn’t.
That’s why I’m writing about it, because if I don’t, I’ll be consumed with the agony for the rest of the day, and it’s too beautiful to be in a dark place.
I have a feeling that this will not be the last time I am overcome with the desire to visit her, but I’m hoping it will get a little easier each time, because this time, it was rough.
I miss you, Grandma ❤