Hands

Creativity Challenge Day 15- Hands

"Holding Freckles' Hand"

I have a memory of me in my great-grandma's bedroom with my great-grandma.  We were standing next to her bed and light was shining through the window next to us.  I noticed that she had spots all over her hands and arms.  I must have been only three or four years old and in my little mind, those marks looked like freckles.  From that moment on, I dubbed her Grandma Freckles.  Because my great-grandpa was married to her, he became Grandpa Freckles.  By the time she passed way, she was simply know as Freckles or Freck by the grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great grandchildren and even great-great-great grandchildren. Looking back, I am pretty sure those are "liver spots," the marks elderly people get on their skin as they age. She was in her early 60's when she was assigned this nick name by her first great-grand child.  

I remember this, and many other things about my grandparents.  Grandpa Freckles would pull quarters out of my ear.  I used to walk from my maternal grandparents' home, Bob and Belle Esau, to my great-grandparents home, to eat lunch with them. I rode in my Grandpa Esau's semi-truck when he had to haul things a short distance. I gardened with my Grandma Esau.

I spent a lot of time with my maternal grandparents and my maternal great-grandparents.  I had a connection with my grandparents.  They were not just old people I visited on holidays.  These were people that I spent time with, who knew me and loved me.  I even knew my great-great-great Uncle Jake.  He lived with my great-grandparents. 

And, unlike many people, I had the privilege of having grandparents well into my adulthood. My great-grandma,"Freckles," Anice Ida Leach, passed away when I was almost 35.  It is her hand I am holding in this picture, on the last day I was able to spend with her before she passed away.  Grandma Esau is still alive and lives in rural Nebraska.  When I call my Grandma Esau, chances are it will be a two hour phone call, because we know each other.  She is not an acquaintance I happen to be related to.           

How lucky am I to have this multi-generational connection?  How wonderful is it that I know in many instances that I am the way I am because of the influence of these special people?  How can I ever explain the way that these relationships have shaped me?

This was a gift from God and I don't think it is given to many.