This morning I picked up the last bar of soap out of the back of the cabinet. The scent of palmolive hit me like a hug from a freight truck. Staying at grandma's house and getting ready for bed, she would pick up that green bar of soap, suds up my washcloth and scrub my 'dirty knees' that never quite lost their brown stain from 'working' outside with grandpa. Then she'd wash the dishes with the green liquid, swipe the counter with the blue dishcloth and tell me to go turn on Jeopardy or Promised Land. We would watch until we couldn't stay awake, or scheme about what random adventure to take the next day, then read in bed for hours.
It's been a year.
A wonderful year, full of love and growth: I said 'yes' to forever with the man of my dreams, got into a school program that is perfect for me, have passed all my classes well, and we have a sweet new little brother.
It's been a year.
I wish she could have been here. She would have been so excited about my engagement... it would be all she'd talk about; something she had talked to me about since I was in preschool. She would have told me more stories about she and grandpa as newlyweds. She would have been SO supportive of my involvement in the program. We would have had to fight her for a turn to hold the baby.
It's been a year.
