Unpacking the boxes of books I brought home from Granddaddy's apartment triggered memories last night of childhood vacations at their home place. I miss their place in Greenbrier.
As I took out each book, I realize that Grandmother took exceptional care of them, and most likely read all of them. I found Granddaddy's Chemistry and Economics text books from 1932 when he was in medical school, and journals that he kept from the first few practices he opened. Those were days when people without money traded livestock or produce to pay for the house calls, and this was a very common transaction.
I remember the lazy mornings at their ranch and the wonderful afternoons spent at the clinic with Granddaddy, helping clean the rooms after each surgery, talking to the animals in recovery. Thinking of what a contrast this is from my paternal grandparents farm, but in so many ways the same, as they both loved us unconditionally.
I often wonder what my grandchildren will remember of me when I am gone. What memories will they keep in their heart?
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