From Donna, with love...

It was tough to hear today that Grandma's cancer numbers (for lack of a better simple explanation) have gone back up - the cancer is active. I can't describe how I feel right now. So instead of dwelling or even processing... another:

IV. "Meggie"

Meet Meggie. She spent years in front of Grandma's porch, in the midst of mums and pansies and begonias. I still remember when they first bought her and put her out. She was unmistakably new. I immediately picked a few flowers and placed them in her basket, with the puppies.

From then on, my daydreamed stories at Grandma's revolved around this girl and her puppies. Her "life" was at the mercy of my imagination. Her life stretched my imagination.

I do not remember if it was that same day or one day later that week or even months later. But one day, Grandma told me, "I named the statue 'Meggie.' It's after you, but I couldn't use 'Megan' because the other grandkids would be jealous." At least, that's what my memory serves to me.

Never mind that my dad, brother, and Grandma have all called me "Meggie" for years... Of course my cousins wouldn't realize.

And it was at that moment when I, like all the grandkids did at one point or another I'm sure, became completely and irrevocably convinced that I was, in fact, the favorite.

Meggie was my first gift "from Donna, with love." I remember visiting one day, fairly soon after an apartment opened in town. Right before leaving for Abbey and Pete's wedding, I think.

By this time, Meggie had become weathered, speckled from years out in the Kansas sun, rain, snow, and wind, despite slight shelter from the porch overhang. Still, though, every time I would visit - as long as the flowers were blooming - the basket filled.

The first thing Grandma said that July evening, other than "Well, Melvin, if they're here to take our suitcases, we'd better pack!" was "Megan, you need to have Meggie. Take her today."

And so I, proudly and humbly at the very same time, loaded her into my car, mentally planning my flower beds around where Meggie would stand.

  

Just a few weeks ago, I met Grandma and Grandpa at the house (the farm? the old house? the country house? Grandma and Grandpa's? I don't even know what to call it anymore) to pick up a tablecloth and dig some mums.

While carefully placing the wedding dish into a waiting box, Grandma explained to me how she just hopes to make sure each grandchild has one "really special" piece from her house.

I'm not sure she quite understood when I tried to explain to her, but I already have mine.