honey

She was our guest for Thanksgiving dinner. Her wise words filled the air as we ate turkey, mashed potatoes, creamed corn. She taught me how to make gravy using corn starch (no lumps). She said that her mother made creamed corn the same way I do. I said my grandmother taught me. Now I know my grandmother's mother started making it this way during the Depression. "Saltines stretch the amount" she said. She would know. She is my grandmother's sister. They called her Honey as a child. So I call her Aunt Honey.

She sounds like my grandmother when she laughs. When I let my eyes rest as I look at her, I see how they look alike. Their features are similar. She looks how my grandmother would have looked in a few more years.

I knew she lived nearby when I moved out here, but I hadn't seen her since I was little so I was hesitant to connect. A great-aunt seems like she will be "old." How wrong I was. She defines young at heart. She is incredible. At 86 she still lives alone. Gardens. Takes care of herself. Follows politics and the stock market. And she shares what she has learned. We connected right after my grandmother passed away. Cried together. Shared stories.

I have been given quite the gift in her friendship. A blessing in the midst of grief.