... for my "bunny" on our first anniversary...

this was the inscription inside the front cover of a book that was yellowed, dog-eared, binding missing. the book was in a pile on the floor of my grandma's house. there are piles in every room marked either trash or keep. we were drifting from one room to the next picking items for our own homes - since grandma no longer needed any of this. she's still alive and kickin - just not alone in this big house. she goes to bingo and sunday prayer groups and comedy hour with her new friends at the retirement center. she has no need for old cookbooks - she has a huge cafeteria to fill her hunger now.


but it was heart breaking to read that inscription.


and not because i was sad to see she wasn't going to cook anymore (honestly, i never favored much of her cooking), but because there was a tenderness to the handwriting and the message itself - written from grandpa to grandma when they were first starting out their life together. it was sad because i can't say that i really have any memories of a man that would have called grandma "bunny". he died over 6 years ago - i remember him as a fairly sour man, tired of the problems of the world. he smelled of cigarette smoke and liquor. he wasn't ever nasty or mean to us - and he always gave hugs of love. but i just didn't know the man that wrote that note... and it brought a lump to my throat. i also feel a little guilty because that might be the first time i truly felt sad that he was no longer here.