My Grandmother's perfume was always as sweet as the fruit she loved to share with me its rinds thrown from the deck. We watched as the deer came out to feast on the skins.
Her perfume came in beautiful crystal and her collection spread all over the bathroom. She hummed as she got ready her song beautiful like the hummingbirds we would fill a feeder full of nectar for. And as we ate at the small wooden table, she would whisper, "Look, my love! Our friends have arrived." and the hummingbirds would sip from the feeder. I always felt that they were her kin, those hummingbirds. But it would not be a stretch for my Nana to be blood with all the beautiful things.
She showed me how to pluck a honeysuckle flower and extract the nectar carefully so I would taste a drop. In the springtime, butterflies would flock to that bush, and we watched from a distance.
She taught me where the daddy-longlegs liked to nest and reminded me that they were harmless. I picked the wildflowers for her and she would place the little arrangments in water on the table.
My Nana would make me coffee so sweet I could barely drink it but I did because the sweetness was just as sweet as her.
I loved spending time with her, even if it was just a phone call. The number 2 pad on my mom's ugly orange phone was my Nana's speed dial. I called her every day. Every day. She would light up when she heard my voice and I would chatter on about anything and everything I could think of.
I still remember the songs she used to sing to me when it was time for bed and I was wide awake. "I love you, a bushel and a peck. A hug around the neck, and a barrel and a heap and I'm talking in my sleep about you."
My Nana doesn't remember the words now but as long as I have a voice to sing with, I will sing for her. As long as I have hands, I will write for her. And as long as I have a heart, I will love her. Even after the day, she doesn't remember me. Even after the day she doesn't see my face and know who I am. Even after the day she doesn't know she ever loved me.