When I was little, sometimes I would stay with my grandma at the farm. The farm was where my grandma and grandpa lived and worked. We called it “the” farm, as if it were the only one. And in some ways it was, it was ours, and the only one. I’m not sure why, perhaps I know, perhaps I don’t need to say for sure, but as young as three or four, maybe even younger, if you go by memories other than my own, I had a problem with trust. My grandma would say, “Oh, she’s such a good baby. I can put her anywhere and she just stays there until I move her.” She was delighted with this. I think I was probably more afraid than good. I didn’t move, not because I didn’t want to, but more because I was afraid. I didn’t want to get into trouble. When I was just a bit older, my grandma put me in the tractor seat chair by the roll-top desk. We weren’t allowed in the roll-top desk. I had heard that many times. I didn’t technically go in the desk, but I surveyed the items on top as my grandma turned away. I picked up something sharp. It cut my guilty, chubby hand. I threw the razor blade back into the cup on the desk. My grandma turned back around, and knew, as grandmas always do, that I had done something. She came closer. “What did you do?” She asked. I didn’t move. She saw my hand. “Did you touch the razor blade on the desk? “. I still didn’t move. She said, “You know I will still love you. Just tell me.” I closed my eyes. I closed my eyes and told her and she still loved me. I closed my eyes, not in fear, but relief. I closed my eyes and hugged her belly and knew I was home.
When you can trust someone enough to close your eyes, trust them with all the darkness around you, then you are free.
I sleep through the night. My eyes closed, my heart safe and wide open.
July 10, 2017 at 8:02 pm
Beautiful memory, every child needs a gramma like that. SHE was a good gramma, she was my mother.
July 10, 2017 at 8:19 pm
I was pretty lucky in both the grandma an mother departments!!