forget me not.

So today I was searching through a bunch of old things. Firstly I love old things, they remind me of what is important in life and grab my attention to think on true priorities. So as I searched through photographs and letters I found a letter from my grandmother written four years ago when I moved to Australia. She had this elegance about her that I could tangibly feel as I read her handwritten statements of love. Ina Jones was proper, came from a wealthy background and as my mother would say 'good breeding' as if we are the pedigree or elite of society. Granny J was pretty, she was so intelligent and nothing about her was simple. She had this way of making you behave just by how she talked to you and held her posture. She hated that I bit my nails. She had beautiful hands, long nails and her veins would sit up on the backs of her hands because her skin was old. I was totally envious my whole childhood of her beautiful hands. They made her the most graceful woman on the planet I could watch her read, cook, or talk but the only thing I would watch would be those graceful utensils. I don't have hands like grandma, I have stubby fingers with big knuckles. My hands are super strong and my nails are short. I wish I could have her hands. Another thing about my grandmother was her mind, she was brilliant at puzzles, mind games and could always figure out the serial killer in movies just by watching the opening scene. One thing I did inherit was this... I always guess the killer!! She was the best at telling stories, she would tell us about the adventures she would have with her two brothers during the war, how she always wanted a bicycle and what life was like growing up being the only girl in a hedonistic society, how she fell in love with my grandfather and the beautiful depiction of love she and grandfather had meeting during the war. She was the epitome of a lady, not many knew of her wondrous talents, gifts and her mind for numbers, patterns and story telling on the spot. She would write letters to us at every Birthday, Christmas and special time addressing us as Miss. Ashley Jones and always signing with hugs and kisses. I never saw her loving anyone with big hugs or kisses, I don't think she was brought up in this way, but her way of loving was kind, considerate and bountiful in letters. My grandmother was never the center of attention, she stood afar off in photos gracefully poised sitting, or in the background doing something. I am generally not like this even though sometimes I wish I could be. Today I felt a closeness of something gone, I recognized all these things just by her hand writing, I felt her hold me as a child, could smell her, could see her hands. It was a moment when I couldn't forget her, it has lasted all day.