Focal Point: Grandmothers

Grandmothers are more than a wife, or an old woman (certainly don’t ever call her that). Grandmothers share wisdom, tell stories, give comfort, or rally great strength. Grandmothers help a family in need, providers at heart. A grandmother bestows trade secrets, gossip and whispers. She hears all, and tells all. She is the keeper of the family, a treasure worth more than gold. A grandmother is where my desires for travel begin. 

My grandmothers  traveled beyond anything I dreamed. For one, she traveled across South Asia, China, Africa, and across the world. Another, road trips in campers across the United States and Canada, cruises to Alaska, and a trip to Italy. They traveled far, and told me their tales.

Photo from Snapwire

My father’s mother went near and far. Anywhere and everywhere around the world. She told me stories of eating strange things, meeting kind people, and proved the world isn’t as scary as it seems. Her white hair praised by many. Her unknowingly Egyptian name loved. She endured hardships, but I believe she enjoyed her travels. For her stories captivated me. Wide eyed and naive. Tales of China, her favorite country. The kindness of strangers, and the beauty of its peaks. Her and my grandfather’s home, floor to ceiling, edge to edge, covered in trinkets, decor, and galore. Tapestry from the Middle East, paintings from the far east. Glass ornaments from Europe, and carved woods from Africa. Awe-inspiring. For their home had a distinct smell, rustic and antique.

SW_Sam Ciurdar
Photo from Snapwire

My mother’s mother traveled all of North America. From Alaska, through Canada, to the tip of Nova Scotia. My grandfather and her took their campers, over mountains, through valleys, and to the seas. Road trips for weeks, and some cruises too. Their home covered in photos. Photo albums stacked away. Precious memories. I remember spending many summers in a camper. Along the Northern California coast. In front of the fire. On the beach. Soaking in the ocean mist. Listen to the waves crash ashore. Quiet. Stillness. Yet, loud with life. I wish to go there again, next year, upon my return home.

My grandmothers comfort,inspire, and  cook amazing food. Yet, I know them for the memories they shared. The photos they took. The treasures they purchased. And I too wish for these things, these experiences.

I hope to live a life fulfilled as theirs. I love them both.

Stay humble. Work hard. Be kind.

The Creative Theorist

(Header photo from Snapwire)


3 thoughts on “Focal Point: Grandmothers

  1. Interesting post on a topic not many people (as far as I’ve seen) write about. One of my grandmothers was an immigrant–from pre-revolutionary Russia to the U.S. I was too young when she died to have known the questions that I now wish I’d asked her, but I sometimes find myself trying to imagine her experience–landing in a country where you don’t know the language or the customs. Facing that with no money and four kids (and four more to come). The courage that must have taken.

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