As I have stated before, I come from a family full of creative people. One of those people was my grandmother. She was a painter.
For the first eight or nine years of my life, we lived down the street from my Nonnie and Pampa. I spent many hours hanging out at their house watching my Nonnie create all sorts of things. Being so long ago now, I don’t remember much but, I do remember her easel sitting out in the closed in patio, her sitting there in front of it painting a beautiful scene in either acrylic or watercolor. If she wasn’t painting, she was crocheting something for someone.
She always had a way with flowers and plants. My grandparents yard and trees were trimmed with the most beautiful things.
She passed away from cancer when I was eleven years old. I would go on to cherish any painting or sketch of hers I could get my hands on. I wanted to always remember her and honor her by displaying her art on my wall. It would be years before I knew what a true connection we really had with one another.
On Mother’s Day 2022, my, at the time, fiancée and I met my parents and some other family member for lunch at a winery. It was a nice May day for Central Texas and we were enjoying each others company. But, mom and dad had mentioned they had something for me in their car.
When it was time to leave we followed my parents to their car. I don’t remember who was speaking to me, but one of my parents told me about the binders and papers in mom’s hands. All I remember hearing was “these were your Nonnie’s.”
As I skimmed the items, I started crying. My Nonnie was a writer just like me. Once we were home, I poured over every single paper now in my possession. I knew Nonnie wrote cute cards for my siblings and me as we were growing up, but I never knew about the poems she spun and the stories she started.
My emotions were in overload (that seems to be the theme of this decade for me), but everything stopped when I came to the story about Sarah Jane. You see, I have my own Sarah Jane story tucked away waiting for it’s turn to become a full story. That realization that we had chosen the same character name, that connection I always felt but couldn’t explain was all there staring back at me in Nonnie’s handwriting.
I have always kind of felt like maybe she was with me here and there through my life. I find myself wishing I could talk to her. Share our stories with each other. Bat ideas back and forth. Even though she isn’t here with me now, I can still talk to her through the pages of poetry and stories she wrote in her lifetime. I’m going to start with Sarah Jane by blending our stories together. I think she would like that!