Thursday, September 27, 2007
I took a snapshot of the little framed photo, not really paying attention to the background. It was only later I noticed how the books in my mom's room paralleled the books in the background of her mom's photo. What I did notice was that the year it was taken. My grandmother was the same age in the photo, as I am now, 48.
I called grandma last week, she's 92, living life to the fullest and as active and sweet as ever. I told her that I hoped I was able to live a long happy life as she had. I told her she would likely live to 114! Oh no, she told me, she wasn't going to live that long, she was going to live to age 97.
97? I asked, how did she know, and why such an odd number? She told me , "Well, I had a great-grandmother, and we had a lot in common. My great-grandmother was born exactly 100 years before me. She was born in 1815, I was born in 1915. She was married in 1836 on her 21st birthday, I was married in 1936, three days before my 21st birthday. She lived to be 97 years old, so I think that's a good age. She was a very special woman, but I didn't call her great-grandma, I called her Aliza."
I love that! Here's to grandma's and great-grandma's too!