Memories of Nana
Maxine
Nana Maxine
moved slowly,
inching
along with her cane, which
she might
point at you menacingly,
if you were
out of line,
with an
arched eyebrow,
an impish
smile rippling across her face.
There was
fire behind her eyes,
always twinkling,
quick to say
“I love you,
a bushel and
a peck,
and a hug
around the neck!”
She leaves a
legacy of
beloved
landscapes,
rendered in
oil paint,
and hanging
in gilded frames.
An
appreciation of fields and fence posts,
lazy rivers
and softly sloping mountains,
sparrows and
seagulls,
the shimmer
of light on water,
the majesty
of the sea,
and the
thousand shades of blue, yellow,
and crimson
in the sky at sunset -
an eye for
the magic and wonder
of the
natural world.
She survived
a stroke that left her
paralyzed on
the right side of her body,
and learned
to paint again, left handed.
An artful
life lived in the little details ~
Silver-rimmed
cat glasses and colorful clothing.
A doorstop
made of a stone with a ghoulish
little face
painted on it. A Christmas
ornament of
macramé with a chocolate
inside, and
a note saying “Squeeze me
and I’ll
give you a kiss!”
I remember chasing
fireflies
out in the
yard at Round Hill
on a warm
summer evening.
Picking
herbs for soup with her
in the back yard
of our house in Georgia,
Playing Hearts
and Rummy Cube with
her and Papa
Dave at their condo in Florida,
where she
also helped me with a school
project, in
the fourth grade –
a
topographically accurate map of Thailand,
fashioned
with artists’ clay.
I remember receiving
handwritten letters,
scrawled in
her unmistakable left-handed script,
relaying the
little details of her daily life and travels,
and brimming
with affection.
I remember
driving across the Midwest,
tracing the
footsteps of our ancestors,
visiting grave
sites and farms, and the banks
of the
Mississippi at Nauvoo, as she compiled
the family
history.
The last
time we saw her, we sang the old songs
together,
and she still knew all the words.
Wife,
mother, grandmother, great-grandmother.
Artist and
matriarch. Centenarian.
She lives in
our hearts,
And we carry
with us her sparkling smile,
her lovely
paintings, and her unwavering love.
--Melinda Rothouse
