Della

When my granddaughter gave me her school paper, my heart swelled.

She and I have had a prodigious bond since the day she was born.

When she tells me "I love you," those words register directly into my heart.

Then I wonder ...

Did I ever expressed that to my own grandmother, Dell? She was the one person I always loved beyond words.

Did I ever TELL her?

Della was my heroine. When I was born, she had already lived most of her life.

As a young woman, she married into a family who actually was still recovering from the Civil War.

As most families, ours suffered deep wounds and losses not only in battle, but suffered the loss of their culture, their way of life.

And as all people of the South in the years after, Della's life most certainly had not been easy.

My family's peaceful and beautiful place was once know as "a plantation."

Now, "The Waaar" as they called it had changed everything.

When Della marred Stonewall, (my grandfather) she moved in with his parents.

(my great-grandparents)

This beautiful spread of land was now "a farm."

The fields of cotton, corn and vegatable garden continued to be planted and harvested. The fruit orchards spread over the hill side. The barns and iron shop were busy as was the making of syrup from sugar cane.

It was a beautiful place to be born.

Della was a beautiful and loving grandmother.

Long dark hair with gray highlights was worn in a braid on her head like a crown.

Della's face was that of an angel.

I always knew I had her eyes. as did my Dad.

She wore long dresses with lace-up boots. The dresses were not fancy, but cotton and cool with petticoats to make them moderately full.

On a busy day, which was everyday that company didn't come,

she wore a large apron over the skirt of her dress. The apron was pulled up to quickly become her basket to gather eggs or pick apples for a pie.

As a little girl,

I toddled in her shadow.

I knew very little about her.

I only knew that I loved her.

iJune