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So tired. Rain and storms off and on all day. I used to love rainy days because my grandmother wouldn’t force me to go outside and play. I hated to be outside after a certain age. I just wanted to read and be left alone. I don’t know what my grandmother thought I’d do outside. She just couldn’t stand the thought of me spending a beautiful day reading. I’d sneak a book out with me, until she caught on and started searching me for them. But if it rained, no outside. I did my chores. I helped with the gardening and yard work on a nice day, but other than that I wanted to read. She loved some books, and some poetry, but she didn’t understand my near obsession with reading. In later years she apologized, said, “How was I supposed to know how important books were to you?” I value the apology, it’s probably one of a handful that anyone ever heard from her.
I suppose I haven’t dealt completely with loosing her this spring. Never easy loosing a parent, I guess. Not as hard as loosing my mother when I was six, no, not that hard, but still hard.