For several years while I was growing up, our family lived next door to my grandmother - we called her Nanny. From the time I was little, we always had a very close relationship. Each day, when the school bus would drop my brother and I off, we'd run up to her house and she'd always have a snack waiting for us. After our snack, my brother (who is almost six years older) would head to our house to start his chores.
I, however, would stay and hang out with Nanny. She would let me watch television, play in her jewelry, admire her shoes, go through her books, and snoop and play like any elementary school girl would want to do. Who wouldn't love that?
But one of the things I remember and love the most were her puzzles. She loved to work puzzles, beautiful 500 to 1000 piece puzzles. She had an entire cabinet full of them. Some of my sweetest memories with her are the many times she'd let me choose a puzzle and we'd spend hours working side by side putting it together until it was completely finished.
Although it's not something I've done much of in the past several years, I still love to work them. And when I do, I always think of her and those fond memories, and my heart can do nothing but swell.
Now, what's even sweeter is that my Little (who is just a few months shy of being three) is getting interested in puzzles. We'd purchased one a few months back and I'd tried to introduce puzzle working to him, but he wasn't quite ready. Then, about two weeks ago, it was just like one of those forgotten toys that all of a sudden shines bright again. Only this time, he was ready. So much, that we've even had to expand our puzzle collection.
He really is loving it. But his new found interest in puzzle working is not what prompted this story - it was my swelling heart and the realization of how sweet and special it would be to pass along this love for puzzles to him that my Nanny had passed along to me. It's knowing that although she never got to meet him, she's looking down and smiling proudly at his interest in them and at us working them.
As I helped him through each puzzle, I loved hearing "I don't know where this one goes" or "Mommy, I can't find it." For me, it was an experience where the past caught up with the present for just one moment, and my cup runneth over.
As always, thanks for reading.
August 19, 2013