memories

i've been re-reading  'i, claudius' by robert graves, a book my grandmother gave to me when i moved to north carolina. as i was reading last night, i placed the book on my chest and realized that something smelled familiar.  i put my nose in the book and inhaled deeply and discovered that the book smelled like my grandmothers house.  the house on stacy street, not the house across town she moved into after i graduated high school.  just to be clear.


 i got lots of books from granny - the day i left with i, claudius i also took home michener's 'texas' and some poems from t.s. eliott and robert frost.  i remember sitting in her tv room, watching pbs and the bbc - almost always programs based upon books or plays.  we watched hours and hours of all creatures great and small, mystery!, and upstairs/downstairs.  


we read books from my earliest memories and there is a very vivid memory of lying on the floor looking at the ceiling fan while granny recited alfred noyes' the highwayman.  i remember as i grew older talking about television shows and our own politics.  i was surprised and heartwarmed by how much she liked my husband.  


the last time i saw her for any length of time was the thanksgiving of 2006.  we gathered to have thanksgiving as a family, dad frying turkeys, aunt, uncle, cousins gathered to celebrate what we knew might be our last thanksgiving with her. she was so excited and ready for family to be there! 


i ended up at her house early and she asked me to help her get ready.  it was one of those wonderful sad moments i will always remember where i helped brush her hair and put on some powder and blush.  she smiled into the mirror and asked me who my favorite author was.  when tom robbins was my answer, she admitted sadly that she did not know him.  i described him thusly 'imagine kurt vonnegut, as a better storyteller with a fouler mouth.'  'oh my' was her response.


now i'm worried about finishing the i claudius because i don't want the smell to go away. ever.