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Straws of
Memories
worries of the outside world. Just being with Gran out amongst the peaceful trees
and a beautiful lake gave me the belief and reassurance that nothing could ever go
wrong. Gran was my happy place.
-
‘Pass me the spade will you, Tils?’ Gran murmured lazily as she swatted at a fly.
She was crouching down in front of a patch of dirt with grass stained gloves
donning her hands. Her eyes crinkled at the corners as she beamed up at me.
I squatted down next to her and smiled at her with affection. We had been
looking forward to this day for quite some time. Gran had always wanted to have
a little vegie patch of her own, so I had decided that it was time she had one. The
afternoon sun beat down on us as we worked away at planting and nurturing each
individual seed. Gran found joy in creating and nourishing life. The lemon tree
had flourished last summer, growing to a remarkable height as a result of Gran’s
love and attention. Gran’s soothing voice interrupted my thoughts.
‘You need to get a hat like mine, Tils,’ she said, with a wink. ‘The sun is
scorching today!’
She yanked her straw hat off her silver hair and plonked it on my head.
‘There’s no hat that could ever be like yours, Gran.’
And there wasn’t. It was Gran who made the hat special.
-
I visit the hospital that night, bringing the straw hat with me. Once I
had it, I was never going to let it go. It evokes memories of Gran and
me, and memories are no doubt precious. I fight against the tears
threatening to overflow from the corners of my eyes when I see
Gran’s frail figure lying in the hospital bed, propped up against a
pillow. Wordlessly, I place the straw hat gently in front of her, my
hands trembling uncontrollably in nervous anticipation. For a
moment, she does nothing. Nothing except blink and stare. And
then, slowly, she picks up the hat and traces the individual pieces of
straw, as I had just hours ago. For the agonising seconds that follow,
Gran fights an internal battle, struggling to reclaimhermind, fighting
against herself to regain control. And for a sweet, brief moment,
there is recognition reflected in her hazel eyes as she whispers in a
voice thick with emotion, ‘Tilly.’
‘
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