Body racked with pain...she would rise from her bed upon hearing the car.
Tiny frame of a women, yet a soul--so large.
Gliding from counter to counter
Counter to table
Clearing light saucers
"Would you like some pickles?"
And her smile-
Spread wide across old teeth.
A tender tear.
And so full of love.
We were 'city slickers;'
Company...'come' to visit the farm...
What compelled their overt kindness
To the likes of me?
Interestingly enough though--
Some forty years later
Her genuine hospitality
Her quiet ways
Her sweet concerned disposition
And her patient hovering
Delivery of the dainties
and the delicacies
that composed the
of farm life
Some forty years later-
Her delicate nature
The rhythmic richness of her voice
Telling small stories
And the gentleness of her hands
Impress me the most.
Old fashioned name
But with a way
In my book
Never out of fashion
Alma sounds delightful. You treated her so tenderly, lg. I loved this.ReplyDelete
Wow, I almost cried!ReplyDelete
You make me love Alma, too. A treasure.ReplyDelete
Talon, Disser2 (((welcome!!))) and Lynn~I do wish that I could share a photo of her with you all. I swear that she stood about 4 and 1/2 feet tall (in her old age); stooped over, leaning spine. She had to 'prop' herself on the counters (to glide) but how I remember her. I am thankful that I can indeed honor her memory via my writing and so very glad that you (all) did take the time for the read. Thank you again.ReplyDelete
Oh, you paint such a clear picture for my mind to imagine this person and this slice of your lives!ReplyDelete
Thank you E.B. :) And...have a most wonderful weekend! Glad that you could stop by; we have a light snow here today! But it is not supposed to last.ReplyDelete