Quiet.

This past weekend I did one of my favorite things to do… I went to my grandparents.  They live in a tiny town near the Kansas/Nebraska border called Axtell.  I always feel better after being there… refreshed, happy.  It is quiet.  No big city noises, no constant beeps at work.  When I am there I don’t dream of IVs going off in the background and patients yelling my name.  Some of my favorite memories growing up are the weeks in the summer I would stay with Grandma and Grandpa, usually with a cousin or two.  The quiet house I love now was not so quiet back then.

This house has everything I love about old houses.  It has history~it used to be the town hospital.  It has character~there is still a window from a bedroom into the hall in what used to be the  nursery.  It has a huge porch… many times I drive up and see them sitting on the porch swing waiting for me.

This is my grandma.  She is the quiet one of the household, but full of strength.  She raised 6 kids, moving them around the country and holding down the fort while grandpa traveled to various places with the Air Force.  She wrote a column for years, and has written 4 books. Every time I go she talks about some other award she has gotten for various articles she writes.

We went on a walk Saturday, Grandma and I.  I don’t think it gets much quieter than main street.

There wasn’t much work going on at the grain  (silo?  elevator? my small town vocabulary is failing here…)

Come fall and it will be less quiet I am sure.

Grandpa is rarely quiet.  (maybe that is where I get it from, along with my red hair and Gin Rummy skills (at one point in time I was 6 cents ahead!  That is a record!) and love of telling people what to do.)

I go there, and I rest.  I curl on the couch and read some of grandma’s old columns.  I play cards.  I eat food I don’t have to cook, and I help do dishes afterwards without even thinking about it.  I smile… take long walks… talk about the never-ending supply of great aunts and uncles and cousins twice removed and the daughter of the sister of the uncle by marriage who moved in across town… go to pancake breakfasts to support the local fire department… take naps in the sun… and in the end, I get a hug and a “Love you, babe” from grandpa, and life is good.

(part of you capture)