My great-grandmother will be buried today and even though I can't make it to Oregon to commemorate her life, my thoughts are full of her. I was asked if I had any stories to share. I don't really. Not the traditional kind of story with rising action, a climax, and a resolution. More like a string of memories: of watching her bustle around the kitchen, and then as she got older, sitting by her on the couch while the rest of us did the bustling; of crouching next to her china hutch and listening to her tell about all the places she's seen. Grandma Campbell was a traveler and each item had a story.
I am grateful for the lessons she taught my grandmother, who then passed them on to my dad, who taught them to me. Until we meet again, Grandma.