Read an Excerpt
Introduction
“It is as grandmothers that our mothers come into the fullness of their grace.”
Christopher Morley
The bower of jasmine beside my studio is cloaked with snowflake-white blooms. Its scent stops me mid-stride and pierces my heart, as only scent can do, with memories of the two beloved women who changed me forever and for good.
My grandmothers, “Nonie” Clarke and Grandmother Lovejoy, were the first and most profound blessings of my young life. In their loving presence, I felt as though everything I talked about, accomplished, or experienced was important. They may not have approved of or understood some of my actions, but they never overlooked them. Instead, they offered words of encouragement or perhaps guidance to a better pathway. I knew that they always had time for me no matter what was happening in their busy lives.
My first home was nestled into an orchard in my Grandmother Lovejoy’s garden just steps from her cottage. Gnarled apricot, guava, fig, and peach trees skirted with jasmine and dianthus leaned toward Grandmother’s house with outstretched limbs, as though in an embrace. I spent the first seven years of my life running the hollyhock-flanked trails between Grandmother’s home and mine. How could I have been so lucky? A grandmother only a few steps from me and always ready to explore, read, have faerie tea parties, garden, cook, and talk with me about the mysteries of life. We approached every day together as an adventure, filled with the simple joys and discoveries that are fresh and new to a child and that can also make a grandmother feel fresh and new again.
At age two Moses is a fearless nature boy who uses all his senses—especially taste—when exploring.
Some days we worked silently, side by side, absorbing the beauty and sounds that surrounded us. I learned that silence can be as deep and instructive as conversation. Only by being silent could Grandmother teach me to tune in and really hear the high bzee-bzee whistling calls of the cedar waxwings that frequented her garden. “All things have a voice,” she said, “but most people don’t take the time to stop and listen.”
My Nonie lived only a few miles from Grandmother’s house. Nonie and my grandpa visited us every Friday without fail. Nonie and Grandmother loved each other and delighted in their weekly visits. While Grandpa worked on innumerable odd jobs, we puttered in the gardens, played old-fashioned board games or cards, made secret gifts for family and neighbors, and cooked. When the three of us were together, we laughed and played like girls.
The garden faeries have a kindred spirit in Sara May, who leaves gifts and letters for them in her mailbox.
Now I am a grandmother, and it is one of the truest and purest joys of my life. The traditions, stories, cooking, gardening, arts, and patience of Grandmother and Nonie stream through me and eddy around the eager young children who fill my life with light. Whether we are picking berries or storytelling, I feel an invisible current of connection to the grandmothers who >came before me. Though that connection is invisible, it is as powerful and tangible as the jasmine blossoms that pour their beauty and fragrance into my garden.
My situation is certainly different from that of my grandmothers, who had me and me alone as their only grandchild for many years. I am blessed to have four grandchildren (pictured on these pages), who usually receive my undivided attention and always receive my unconditional love. Although two of my grandchildren are step-grands, there is never a time when I don’t feel as though they are my own. They know me as Gramma Sharon, and they don’t measure me against the grandma whose blood flows through their veins. I live about 5 minutes from two of my grands and about 20 minutes from the others. Just close enough, just far enough. Despite chaos and calamities, temper tantrums and tears, our times together are joyful, life-changing, affirming, and a constant challenge.
Asher’s analytical mind ponders the how and why of everything, even something as simple as a big bubble.
This grandmother-grandchild relationship is not only about what I can do for my grandchildren, but also what they unintentionally do for me. They’ve given me the gift of the sweetest love I have ever known. They’ve given me the gift of “child'sight”—the ability to stop, hunker down, and see things through their fresh, young eyes and minds. When I am with them, I am never unhappy, tired maybe, but always filled with the anticipation of the new things we’ll experience.
I feel that a grandparent can be more free-spirited and playful with her grandchildren than a parent is with her child. We bend some of the rules. We laugh with them in situations that might have brought on “the wrath” when we were full-fledged mothers. We remember how scary it felt to spend the night in a strange house and that accidents will happen, but it won’t be the end of the world as we know it. We’re easier and more resilient, and our hard edges have been rounded and softened by the buffeting of life. As long as my grandchildren need and want me, I just want to be there with an open mind, open arms, and an open heart. What could be better?
If asked to describe Ilyahna, I would use one word—creative.
I wish for you, my readers, the simple joy and connection that a life with beloved elders and grandchildren will provide. Live fully in each moment, keep journals of precious words and insights, and continue the invisible current for the next generation to pass on to their grandchildren.
Grandmotherhood is a state of grace, a chance to be a child again, to be whimsical, to dance, to sing, to explore, to believe, and to scatter your love, like glistening drops of warm spring rain, onto your grandchildren.
Blessings to you and your lucky grandchildren,
Sharon Lovejoy
“You must never stop being whimsical.”
Mary Oliver
“The heart is like the mind, has a memory,
and in it are kept the most precious keepsakes.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
