I Remember the time we went to San Francisco for a weekend getaway. I was around 11 years old. As we arrived at the subway station to begin the journey, I showed you how to buy us our subway tickets, using the automated machine, and directed you to the correct platform. You humbly took instruction from your granddaughter, guiding you through a place that was still somewhat unfamiliar to myself. While on the train I poured over our map, excited by the prospect of finding our way to the hotel, as I had little knowledge of it’s whereabouts. When we arrived at Union station, We navigated the bustling city blocks together. I counted the blocks carefully, in attempts to follow the route I had mapped in my head. you seemed grateful to offer me the responsibility I was eager to rise to, as I feigned confidence I would get us to the hotel.
I think I have always had a strong will, but when I was younger I would often try to temper it in efforts to not be too bossy or offend others. But you quickly identified this part of me as a strength. You remarked on my courage to navigate us through a busy city, and expressed gratitude, and at moments even awe.
A similar interaction took place when you took me to Nordstrom’s on that second day. This was somewhere you felt comfortable, and as you showed me the youth section, you began to pull a few things off the rack you thought I might like. And when you asked if I liked one of the pieces of clothing you plucked from the rack, you looked a bit surprised when I responded: “mmm, no that’s not really my style.” This exchange repeated several times as we continued shopping, and I remember beginning to become aware that I could be offending my grandmother. Instead while you waited on the other side of the dressing room door, as I handed you back garments you had picked out for me, I’ll never forget your reaction. instead of taking offence, you looked at me as an individual outside of this granddaughter and daughter shopping trip, and said “Well Anna, you really know what you like and what you don’t like, and you know what, I think that is wonderful.” It didn’t feel backhanded, it felt like a genuine compliment. You shared this with the salesclerk too, “Let me tell you, this girl knows what she wants,” smiling and happy, not an ounce of frustration in your voice.
As we took a midday lunch break, at Nordstrom café, sitting calmly across from each other with our soup, we just talked, and you seemed truly curious about me, and you engaged me as an individual, with a unique spirit, with a unique voice. And as an 11 year old, who often wanted to be seen as more than just a kid, I felt acknowledged. I just don’t think all grandmother’s would of taken such a strengths based, and accepting approach in the face of my strong opinions. And it spoke mountains to me, and fostered a quiet trust, that I have kept close to my heart to this day.
I love you.
