Stories...

You know what I like so much about my grandma’s? The way they look. But I never realised this until now. You know what triggered this? Looking at a picture of Jane Fonda. She looks gorgeous. Even more so considering she is 72.

But then I think about my grandma’s. Both are still alive. I’m never good with keeping up to date with how old or young someone is. So don’t ask me how old my grannies are. Somewhere between 70 and 90. Age doesn’t matter to me; maybe that’s why I’m not up to date on their latest age.

***

“Apple, let’s do breakfast. I’ll pick you up and we’ll talk writing, life and God” my 84-year old friend said the day before he picked me up for breakfast somewhere in September 09. He surprised me when breakfast for him meant going through McDonalds drive-thru for a breakfast wrap. “Because the wraps are kinda good”, he almost apologetically said, while handing me tiny little pieces of paper on which he had scribled several quotes from the bible referring to Apples. He didn’t know yet that the bible and me? I’m not feeling it.

I haven’t heard from my friend since he started reading my blog. He is very well connected. To the internet that is.

***

I look at Jane Fonda. I wish I could look like that at 72… But the thing is; I’m unable to get a feel for her. I’m not feeling it. And I wonder why. I think about my grannies. How one has a face that shows all that she’s been through in her life. The war, the grief, the raising of five kids, the loss of one, the cancer she developed right after that but most of all, her face, her face shows her warmth! Every wrinkle, every line shows the depth of her soul. There is no keeping up appearances. Her exterior shows exactly what she’s been through in life. A raw canvas. Bruised, battered but she survived. Yet; somehow I feel, it won’t be long until she’s no longer alive. Yet I have no reason to think she won’t.

***

Her hands. I have special memories attached to her hands. Nothing in particular. It’s just a feeling. Her hands are big, but they were so incredibly soft. As a kid I loved the softness of her hands. They felt kinda spongy. Yes, that was it; spongy-soft. I still vividly see her gold wedding ring on her left ringer finger. She has been unable to take it off for as long as I can remember. I haven’t seen my grandma since I left Holland. I wasn’t at my grandpa’s funeral two years ago. Her husband. I wonder; would she still be wearing her wedding ring?

***

I wonder about a lot of things. It comes naturally. But today, I wonder why I write about my grandma…And that it’s been two years since my grandpa died. He’s been with me ever since. Oddly enough. Because we never had a real connection in life. Now I feel his presence being present. Thing is; he’s hilarious. I never knew…

***

Now I realise why the looks of my grannies, makes me feel them. It’s their soul made manifest in flesh. I could read their life on their faces. In their hands. They carefully crafted their life-story onto their raw canvas. And I believed all those stories. Every single one of them.

All my stories are in my old book. This is a new one. It started February second. I no longer believe in story-telling. I believe in telling it the way it Is!

I wonder; would Jane Fonda know about this? Is she crafting a clean slate for herself every time she goes under the knife? Is plastic surgery a way of working outside in, or will the inside keep coming out?

There are two things I know for sure; stories are nice. I love stories. But what I love even more; is to let them go so I can continue to go with the one flow and one story that matters; the one in my heart. The second one is that instead of surviving my life; I’d like to live! That is why, I no longer believe anything but..

What I feel!