What I'm thinking today: Monday Meander

It's time to end the moaning on Mondays. Anything I have to moan about is just so very petty in the grand scheme of things, so instead these posts at the top of the week will take a meander down whatever path opens to me.

Today is my Grandmother's 134th birthday - if she were still here that is. Gram died in her 100th year (1984), a quiet, wise woman whose sausage rolls were to die for! To me, she is famous for bright shiny 'coppers', butterfly kisses and wonderful baskets of comfort food brought to me whenever I was sick, which was a lot. The basket always had in it at least one can of Campbell's scotch broth soup. I loved it.

Gram & Gramps poolside with Dad and I, July 1961

At my wedding in 1975

Whenever she and Gramps would visit, one of the first things she did once seated comfortably was open up her purse, reach in and take out a small black, soft leather change purse, then twist open the clasp.

"Let me see if I have any bright shiny coppers (pennies)", she would say with a twinkle in her bright blue eyes.

I hung on the arm of the chair, waiting, trying to peek into that tiny purse to see for myself, but she would always conceal the contents from me. There were always 2 or 3 coppers and sometimes there were FIVE!! What a treasure! Then came the butterfly kisses - just 2, one on each cheek - her lips would hardly touch my cheek and I really had to pay attention to feel it.

One of my prized possessions is a souvenir Gram brought back with her from a trip to Capri. It’s a wooden cigarette box with intricate marquetry on the top. When opened, the love song “On the Isle of Capri” chimes out softly. I vividly recall sitting on the floor at Gram’s knee watching in eager anticipation as she carefully picked up the box from its place on the living room side table, and just as carefully, slowly lifted the top.

Together we listened to the tune the whole way through, me savouring every note and imagining an island in Italy with its blue grotto and Gram, her head turned just a bit to one side with a gentle smile playing around her mouth, lost in a delightful far away place.

Time and again Gram and I visited this wonderful magical moment and each time the box was opened just once and then gently put back in its place on the table. Each time my grandmother’s soft fingers stretched out to gently open the wooden box, we both held our breath in anticipation of delight. And for the record, there never were any cigarettes in the box, at least not when I was around.

First thing this morning I let my fingers stretch out to open the wooden box again. That magical music spilled out into the room and I felt the faintest of butterfly kisses on my cheeks. Can there possibly be a better way to begin a Monday? I think not. Thanks, Gram.