Happy 60th Grands

Friday November 25th marked my grandparents, Leonard and Eleanore Green's 60th wedding anniversary.

They met at a post WWII dance, and my grandpa told my grandma his name was Joe. They had both come with different dates and when he called her later that week, her sister naomi answered, telling her that a Leonard was on the phone. Her response was, Leonard? I don't know any Leonards...but then of course she did and she would.

My grandparents are such pillars. Patriarchs, Matriarchs, they are this family. And you can tell that they think they've done their best, that they are contented with what they've done in their lives. The way my grandma's eyes crinkle, she doesn't boast, but when her eyes smile at the corners, you know. My grandpa, he says, kid you're allright if you've done something particularly noteworthy. I wish i could have been part of their lives earlier. They tell these stories of family members, my grandma's brother sam, of my father and aunt and uncle running around the house and i can't recall running through my house at all, so worried was I about setting off my mother. You can tell my grandparents were good parents. Still are.

I know I'll lose them soon. I know it. But oh oh i cannot, i will have to. I was driving to friday night dinner a few weeks ago and thought, my children, if i have them, they will never know them. They will never know their amazing lineage. These beautiful and warm and caring people who have held me up when my parents couldn't.

My parents didnt read my novella--my grandparents did. The thing of it is, I know how lucky I am, to have such a close relationship with them. But i'm greedy, I want to keep knowing them, for them to continue loving me hard and tight.

Mostly, though, I hope I can be as good a person, I hope I can be as contented with my life as they are, when I've lived on this earth for 90+ years.

They wouldn't want me wallowing about a loss that isn't even here yet, close as it may have come in the past. So, Gramp, Grams, L'chaim to the happiest couple I know.

Happy 60th anniversary


Love,
Liss

Things I cannot do

People talk and wax poetical about writers block. Oh, the pain! The discomfort! Somedays I can't get myself to do ordinary things; it's like I have do-ers block. Tonight i can't pack. I'm going home just for four nights but i feel claustrophobic, i dont want to. But instead of fixing the problem, I stare at clothes on my floor. I look for cds i need to return to the library, i google search random places on the globe, people i'll never meet.

I wrote last weekend. God, it was like a drug, it was like getting my long long overdue fix. I'm a junkie. But I'm too scared to use. I'm not allowed to quit.

I told ryan, a guy i work with i'd let him read THE NOVELLA by dec 1. I have a week to go. crap. I can write at work tom. I can write on Sunday but CRAP. I'm running out of time and i need deadlines.

I gots to get my grove back.

And, of course, pack. Gawd, Alissa if it's so horrible you can drive BACK. You don't have to sleep there any more than you want to...