A Friend That knows Me
A few days ago I was in my office with a woman who knows me very well. She has seen me emotionally naked in varying states of emotional dress. My friend has encountered the very happy me and the very, very sad me. She sees a devoted wife who knows a woman is the magic elixir in a marriage. She has witnessed me as a computer-frustrated wreck, threatening to throw myself and my computer out of the 71st floor of my apartment in the sky. My friend says I am very Gracie Allen; funny, but aware of my defiance, my fears, my introspective and creative side, and my love of nature. She knows I love all types of material possessions and am totally outrageous and upbeat. But, she never realized the depth of the ‘sentimental me’ until yesterday when I told her about gifts from a grandmother’s heart.
Of course she does not know everything about me. How could she?
There are only three people that I really know me and my sentimental side. My ultimate concierge really knows me, one of my daughters knows me because she is my double, and her husband knows me because I’ve known him since he was 18.
My Husband Knows the ‘Sentimental Me’
As my ultimate concierge often says to me, “I can smell you a mile away.” He knows I love Billy Holiday and Black Label Scotch. Also, that I dance to the beat of my own drum, I’m a good cook and I love fish net hosiery in red, tan and black. My husband knows I wake up with a smile, walk my pooch in the wee hours of the morning bedecked with red lips, red nail polish, a triple spritz of Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat 540, black shades and enthusiasm. He knows that I would starve without the beauty of nature and good people in my life. However, he also knows I have no problem deleting whatever and whoever are unable to make my heart sing; like cactus and mean people.
He respects that I am curious and engaged in life. He has watched me cry in frustration as I try, try, try to learn, and knows that I accept graciously that which I have no control. My ultimate concierge knows I am disorganized, yet get everything done by the seat of my pants. He knows that I lose everything, but find it after I go into a tizzy. Being one of the few that really knows me, he knows I am protective, sentimental and generous, and a wicked bad ass authentic girl who knows that life is not a dress rehearsal, and that real life is what I make it.
And, he knows I always give gifts from the heart.
Gifts From a Grandmother’s Heart
I am deeply sentimental. My friend, who I spoke of in the beginning of this article, was looking at the shelf behind my desk where I place many of my treasures given to me by husband, children, friends and of course my grands. She asked me the meaning of a few. For some reason I began to tell her two quick stories about gifts from a grandmother’s heart. Later that day she sent me a text asking me to tell you Darlings the stories I shared with her.
The Protective Fairy
A Gift to My Granddaughter
My ultimate concierge and I were invited to a dinner party years ago when my granddaughter was five years old. Before the dinner party I dropped into one of my favorite little shops in search of a little gift for the party hostess. The owner of the shop was a bazaar woman with long, flaming red hair and a personality to match. I genuinely enjoyed her company because she was a hoot.
Nothing tickled my fancy for a hostess gift, but on the top of the highest shelf sat a beautiful little fairy that definitely had my granddaughter’s name all over it. I assumed the shop owner wouldn’t mind climbing up a 12 foot ladder (she had to be in her late 60’s), I asked her to please bring the fairy down from the shelf. She climbed up the ladder with a twinkle in her eye, tenderly took the beautiful little fairy off of the shelf in one hand, and then grasped the side of the ladder with the other hand as she carefully came to ground level. She handed me the little fairy, still with that same twinkle in her eye, and as I held the fairy in my hands I knew without question that this would truly be a gift from a grandmother’s heart.
Along with the gift I wrote a very simple letter to my granddaughter:
My granddaughter is now in her early twenties. She has moved with her family several times and has had her own apartments at university. She has kept her guardian fairy close since she was five years old.
A Gift to My Grandsons
When my first grandson was around 4 or 5 years old I was walking down a street in Aspen with my ultimate concierge and spied a rock shop. I asked Shelly to pop into the shop with me. Almost immediately I saw a large glittering black rock with little sparkles embedded in it. I thought of my little grandson and his life. I wanted it to be a sparkling one, so I bought the rock for him and as more grandsons came into the world I make it a point to find a rock shop so I could give each of them the same type of rock.
One month ago I spent a week at my daughter’s home in Arizona. My grandson took me into his room and said, “Honey, guess what gift I still have that you gave me when I was a little boy.” Without hesitation I guessed, “Your rock?” There it sat on his night stand next to his bed. My heart melted. We looked at each other and I knew his heart was melting too. And we hugged because we both knew it was a gift from a grandmother’s heart.
The note I wrote to each grandson read like this:
You can buy your grands computers, iPhones, headsets, bikes, jewelry and more but the best gifts are the symbolic ones from a grandmother’s heart. The computers wear out, newer iPhones and Apple watches always replace the old and bicycles are outgrown, but sentimental gifts of from a grandmother never grow old; they grow stronger.