continued from page beside my ….

continued from page

beside my father, hold my aunts’ hands just a moment longer, memorize my uncles’ hearty laughs, and ruffle my cousins’ hair as they raced past me clutching the handles of their Easter baskets. Most of all, I’d look at my grandmother — really look at her — storing away the details time has blurred: the way sunlight caught the silvery white of her hair; how her hands, veined and gentle, peeled a hard-boiled egg; and the quiet pride as she watched her family gather.

But I can’t travel back. But if I try, I can feel my grandmother’s presence inside me. I can feel the presence of everyone I’ve lost over time, bridging my past to my present — a love that transcends time and dimension. And I hope that you can feel it, too. Happy Easter!

Ona and Joyce at Egg Hunt.

Grandmother Jarriel “Ona” in her pink hat.