At Her Feet

I am sitting contentedly on the brown carpet that adorns her small, but comfortable, living room. She is rocking back and forth gently on her orange, brown and beige striped rocker. There is the faint sound of voices coming the television, which she had quickly turned down when I approached with a kiss and soft caress for her cheek. The familiar clicking sounds of her knitting needles scraping together as she rocks adds to my contentment. We are both enjoying the pleasure of sharing this moment in time.

I am recalling this pleasurable moment today and reflect that it could have been any number of moments within the past 30 years or more. Even when I reached the age of adulthood and had children of my own, I never failed to sit on the floor in front of her chair. I guess it embodied our relationship - I had her up high on a pedestal and she had me, loving and adoring her as if I was an innocent child.

We talked about many different things throughout our years together as Grandmother and Granddaughter. Our relationship matured as I did. But I never grew tired of listening to the stories of her childhood, her days during the second world war, her courtship to my Grandfather and the fun she had in her 'racing green' Austin-Healy. She was no wallflower; my Grandmother worked from the age of 17 and started her career as an apprentice Draftsman/Tracer at Hawker Aircraft in Kent, England. To say she was ambitious would be a sizeable understatement. My interpretation of her ambitions were for her to succeed at the goals she set herself to the best of her ability as well as at a level that equalled men and those of a higher 'class'. Yes, she was very much an English-woman who had been exposed to the pre-conceptions of the limited capability of working class people and women, in particular.

Her ambitions and achievements never failed to impress those who took an interest in her stories. I always relished in the opportunity to 'get her talking', which didn't require much other than the time to listen. Her stories empowered me and often propelled me to set and achieve my own goals. Although I can still recall her words today, something is missing. I think it is her unwavering belief in me ... a belief I must now give to myself in her absence. Perhaps it should be a goal for me this year? Self-belief. I guess I should stop sitting at her feet and try to follow in her footsteps ...