I am so lucky to have my two sisters, Pat and Nancy.   They both are deeper thinkers than I am.   When I went to Meredith College as an adult, I had to read many of the “great works.”    I toiled through them, but what was so surprising is that Pat had read them all.  For pleasure.  I cannot image. 

Pat also had a special relationship with our grandmother, and last week she wrote something on Facebook that I want to keep and read.  And read again.

Here’s the object that served as her “muse.”

And here’s what she wrote:

I was walking through Food City today and smelled a wonderful aroma. I tracked down the source and suddenly I was yanked off my feet and I flew through time and space and was 5 years old again and standing in my Mamaw’s side yard. It was late summer and the grass was crisp under my bare feet. The sun was hot on my shoulders. I could hear the far off voices of my parents cutting tobacco in the field. I could really hear my Mamaw saying, “Don’t you eat any more of those grapes!” I could see her in my mind. She wore a printed cotton house dress and an apron. I knew what she smelled like, too. She smelled like the blossoms from her Sweet Bubby bush because she always carried those blossoms in her apron pockets. Finding these grapes has given me a happy afternoon. I don’t think I’ll eat them for a while. I want to close my eyes and smell that aroma again and be 5 years old and see my Mamaw a few more times.

Is that not the sweetest story?