Still A Dreamer

Today as I began journaling I wrote the date and saw that it was November 28th — my Nana’s birthday.  My Nana passed away in 1972 at the ripe old age of 96.  She was born in London and came “across the pond” in her mid 20’s at the turn of the century. She was already a widow, and came to the United States by herself to start a new life.  How brave she must have been to leave all she knew and come to a new country alone.

Nana was always a big reader, and I remember that she read to me plenty when I was young, always in the green chair in the corner of the living room. I sat on her lap and she read me stories or my books about dogs, horses, birds, or elves and fairies.

I haven’t thought of her in awhile – she’s been gone now 35 years. She was quiet and refined in her British way, with a rather wealthy upbringing as I was told. Her lovely accent rubbed off on me, but I was forced to abandon it as I was ridiculed in grammar school as `talking funny’ by other kids. 

Nana couldn’t cook worth a lick. All I ever saw her cook was a pepper omelette or make a bologna sandwich. When my grandfather was alive and they were together, he did all the cooking. Thinking of her, remembering her, brought a smile to my face. I looked out the window and noticed how the trees are finally almost bare of leaves. From my office window I can see the Delaware again. I’m reading a great novel – Nana would have liked it, I think.

This evening I watched a gorgeous sunset and ran outside with my digital camera to capture it. I think she would have liked that, too. Happy Birthday, Nana.

See more photos on my web site.