I hope you have a most wonderful birthday a half a world away from me. It's times like this that I curse the skin you've always said was too thin, and wish for longer sleeves, it seems the ones on which I wear my heart aren't doing much to relieve the aching way in which I long to be near you today. I know the pain is normal, that it means I'm growing and that the discomfort is a kiln which is firing me to be a stronger tea cup or china or whatever antiquated piece of kitchen wear you use to make the analogy, but for now I just want relief in the cool calming waters that I know to be you. I miss you so completely, every day, but especially today.
If I were there I would kiss your face and "mess up" your hair. I would put lotion on you hands and you'd complain about how hot your feet are, while mine would be too cold, and you'd admonish me to wait, my time is coming. We'd trade shoes and you'd find something in a drawer or a closet or a book or a can or jar of something that you'd "been meaning to give" to me. You'd listen to my advice and suggestions cautiously or enthusiastically, scowling or grinning at my youthful certainty, or uncertainty. You'd tell me what to do, and I'd roll my eyes, knowing that you're probably right, but only taking it completely in later, on the drive home.
We'd eat too much, sugary and sweet and chocolatey and whatever newfangled health remedy you're trying after getting a crazy email forward about how it will change your life. The vinigar, the yougurt, the garlic, the vitamins, whatever, washed down with whatever chocolate or sweets you had in the house. Cause that's what you do at Grandma's. You'd shake your head and bitch and moan about my picky eating habits (which I promise you, are changing here)swearing that I was too old to act this way, and yet we'd dine on whichever meal you'd prepared especially because you knew I was coming, whichever items you could most recently recall as being my "favorite". I would listen for your ticking heart, and the whisp of the oxygen, and I would breathe in the familiar scent that I've never been quite able to find anywhere else on Earth, only hints of it, here, or there, which always inspire my heart to miss you and love you.
We would have long chats in which I'd speak too quickly and too loud, taking time to settle into the calm that you create in me. We would laugh until we cried, or really in your case, not really cry, but sort of, and then cry until we laughed again. We'd agree and disagree and agree to disagree. I'd shriek and you'd whisper, and we'd both use too many gestures. We'd talk until there was nothing left to say, but to just feel the space in the air left by the warmth of our words, the kind of closeness only those who have shared so much of their souls with each other over the years can create.
And I've been lucky. So lucky. Because not everyone has someone in their life who will proudly pull back their curtains and expose the inner workings of the dirty business of living a life. Not everyone is strong enough to show the shadows, and expose the mistakes, wear the failures like badges of honor. It seems small, and obvious, and yet it has the effect allowing anyone in your presence to take the risks that will make them a better person, that will make them stronger, that will allow them in turn to grow and reach and strive and yet to have the safty of knowing they can always come back home if the plan fails, if the lover is the wrong one, if the choice was mistaken, or the efforts in vain. Not everyone has someone who has lived such an extraordinary and yet ordinary life, and is willing to teach them the lessons, again and again until she is horse, and still repeat them no matter how many times I miss, forget, ignore, overlook or fail to learn them. And yet with every success, and even most failures, I know you're out there in the crowd, silently crying in your way, clasping your hands together with pride in the front row of the stage from which I live my life. And I'm so very, very, blessed.
So congratulations my dear, on completing another lap round the sun on this planet. And thank you for giving those of us lucky enough to live in your essence another year with you. I miss you bittersweetly, and love you completely, and cannot wait until we meet again.
I love you, Happy Birthday.
Your Granddaughter,
Jennifer Korrin Katchmark
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