My maternal Grandma is 97 years old. Ninety seven and a half, actually. Past the point where you count in years, we now count in months as we do for the very young. Her body is beginning to fail her so I’m taking my kids to see her for what may be the last time. Maybe not – I get my stubbornness partially from her – but there’s a chance.

My Bella was named after her and I think it’s important that they have a picture together, even if neither of them remembers.

My Grandma is one of the kindest and softest and strongest women to ever have lived. She has never said a negative thing about anyone in her life. She lived through the depression with a smile, and nothing is more important to her than her family. She lived and worked on the family farm on her own for many years after my grandfather passed away (long before I was born). My mom is the great mom she is partly thanks to Grandma, and in turn I am who I am thanks to my mom. I can only hope that Bella one day carries on the tradition of mother-love that runs deeply through our family.

This picture is of Grandma at 95 and Primo at 3 months old. I took him to meet her – just in case – and she’s still around to meet Bella but now can’t hold herself up to even sit and hardly eats or drinks on a bad day.

So, we’re off.

She lives in the land of no internet so the chances of me being around this week are slim. I hope you all have a great week and I’ll see you soon with…

-the story of how we met…
-how I weaned Primo…
-green cleaning…

and more, thanks to your suggestions and votes in my sidebar over there!