My great grandma used to say
"Child, life is what you make it to be."
Those words should be framed
And kept alongside me.

She was a bashful violet
Amid a profusion of wild roses.
Hot tempered Irish
Who never stuck up her nose
At anything.

Though she had her faults--
Could hold the longest, meanest grudge--
But at the end of her day,
She never regret
Because she knew
Life is what she made it to be.

I probably could learn a thing or two from her.