Grandma J - Herself's paternal grandmother - was a teeny little woman, always beautifully and classically dressed, with immaculately coiffed hair. Grandpa H was a tall, bald and handsome man who smoked the occasional cigar and would find coins inside the grandchildrens' ears. Grandma J and Grandpa H lived several states away, and it was always an adventure to visit them, for it involved a rare and exciting plane trip.
Their house was small and immaculate and their standard poodle, Peppy, was grey, polite, and carefully avoided children. The guest bathroom always smelled lovely and had a fascinating little gadget that dispensed tiny paper cups. There was a rather dull park down the street, and Herself and her siblings would walk down and hang upon the few monkey bars for a bit, after listening to grandfatherly warnings to be careful, lest they fall down and break their necks and "have to walk like this for the rest of their lives" (with a demonstration of a cocked-head gait).
Though Herself has always been an ugly duckling, when Grandma J and Grandpa H would pat Herself's head and call her shaina maideleh, she believed them, for they made her feel special.
Grandma J was the epitome of kind. She always looked for the best in every person; an unpleasant word never once passed her lips, nor did she ever raise her voice in the least. When Herself had to write an essay describing a person she admired for a college application, she wrote about Grandma J.
In her early 90's, Grandma J took up painting. Herself has a Grandma J original work in her bedroom - flowers in a pitcher on a blue and green background. Simple and lovely.
Bridge Over Troubled Water (Simon and Garfunkel) always reminds Herself of Grandma J.
In which I get my comeuppance
4 days ago