Dorothea’s Granddaughter

On a handmade bookshelf

in the corner of my living room

sits a scrapbook

overflowing with memories.

On the very first page

there is a picture

of a baby

with a lopsided smile

and a dimple

not quite on the cheek

not quite above the lip

but somewhere in the middle

much like the girl

who rarely falls

where people think she should.

On the same page

is a note

written in Grandma Bateman’s handwriting

it simply reads

“Kristian Lorraine Cosner

November 12, 1984

6:32 am

6 lbs. 8 oz.

19 inches.”

So much in that little note

for it is not just a handwritten announcement

of a new life

but the life of Dorothea’s last grandchild

and only granddaughter.

A baby spoiled by love

before she ever left the womb.

Now, the woman with the same lopsided smile

and oddly placed dimple

is still just as odd

and falling in the middle.

Oh, Grandma!

I often wonder what you would think of me now.

Would you still get that twinkle

in your eye

as you watched me dance

just like you did all those years ago?

Would it be like looking in a mirror

watching the woman with dark hair

and a silver streak

dance barefoot in the kitchen

as she cooks?

In that same scrapbook

there is a card you wrote

in the year 1988

to be given to me

on November 12, 2000.

You knew you wouldn’t be here

to give it to me yourself, but still,

you wanted, as you called me,

the apple of your eye

to have something from you to open

on her sweet sixteenth.

I knew then, my thoughtfulness

comes from you.

I always wanted to be that kind of woman

thoughtful

compassionate

who thinks of others

and does for others.

Thank you, Grandma,

for loving me

and giving me

your humor

and compassion

and the silver streak in my hair.

For the wisdom of knowing

the power behind a pair of stilettos,

and teaching me what to look for

in a man

even if I was a bit too young

to hear about the size of his feet!

I laugh, now

because it’s so you…

“Classic Dot,” as they’d say

And on this day

November 12, 2021

I will honor you

for I would be nothing

without the woman

who always thought so highly of me.

All I have of you now

are the memories preserved in that scrapbook

that sits on the handmade bookshelf

in the corner of my living room

and I wear them in my smile

that forms that oddly placed dimple

that bothers me.

I smile anyway

for I am Dorothea’s granddaughter,

and for that, I am proud!