I remember

there was a time when you could sit down to any piano and start playing

lovely pieces while you waited for us to get ready.  Why didn’t I ever

record it?

I miss your

stew.  And coming over to your house and finding a ring of orange lipstick

on the container of whipping cream.  I still laugh thinking about how you

denied it. 

You packed me

a lunch one morning when I had to leave for a meeting at 5 AM during my

senior year.  Nobody had ever packed me a lunch before.  I

didn’t like the type of sandwiches you made or the cheese, but the gesture

meant the world to me.

I loved that

you were the classiest grandmother in our neighborhood – the best dressed.

I miss your

home.  I miss seeing you walking down the front hallway to greet us when

we came through the back door. 

It wasn’t what

you knew… but who you knew. 

No woman has ever

owned more purses, belts, shoes and dresses or received more catalogues in the

mail.

I wish I’d

taken more pictures of you – pictures of me with you and you with my

kids. 

You had the most stalwart, staunch testimony in God and the prophet Joseph Smith that I have ever seen.  It didn’t blind me from seeing you get angry as hellfire at some of the things you had to endure or demanding answers at some future point.  But you never lost your faith. 

I love how

this song will always make me think of you – the snapshots

of many youthful months spent with you in Los Angeles.