Let me share two quick stories with you, both about remembering, in their own way.
First, the other night I made a frozen pizza. Tombstone pizza, to be exact. And I remembered my grandma Gertie making the two of us Tombstone pizza before my basketball practices, carefully counting each piece of pepperoni to make sure we each got the same amount.
After practice, she’d routinely whoop me in Scrabble. She never let anyone win, so when you won, you knew you’d earned it.
I posted this on facebook, and other family members began commenting on their own memories of Gram: her plaid pants and her shooting squirrels off her birdfeeder while she stood on the front porch in nothing but a slip.
It was a wonderful thread of memories.
Second, I was given a plant at work.
Now, this may be a dangerous thing, since I’ve never successfully kept a plant alive. I have even killed cacti – yes, plural. I often say I have the opposite of a green thumb.
But perhaps this one will be different. A friend of mine suggested getting a plant to talk to after my dad passed, but I’d dismissed him because I kill plants. But now one’s been given to me . . .
I’ve named her Ofelia, because she reminds me of the mandrake root in Pan’s Labyrinth.
She’s supposed to be easy to care for, requiring only a half-cup of water each week. I’m also keeping her at work, where several of my coworkers have tremendous plants, so maybe some of their good gardening will spread my way.
Wood always remembers it was once a living tree, alive and breathing in both kingdoms, the one above and the one below.Guillermo del Toro & Cornelia Funke
– Pan’s Labyrinth