Inspired by the beautiful words I have been reading as part of this challenge, I have decided to make the leap myself. Check out Write on Wednesday’s other bloggers here at inkpaperpen.
I remember her smile. Lipstick red when she was going out – shopping or to the club to play cards with her ladies. She was a good card player. The Major from Fawlty Towers was right. I remember sitting opposite her at the dining table, each of us playing patience. She stuck her tongue out a little bit when she concentrated. We all do that. Dad, then me and now the boy. Funny how it goes.
I remember her fingernails. Long. Manicured. Red or pink polish. She taught me to do them for her when the Parkinson’s became too much. One stripe of colour to the middle then one to each side. “Just three times, like so.”
I remember her voice – her almost perfect English. Not Strine. She was a Dame. Dahm-eh. The German kind. A lady. But I reckon she was a dame too. A classy dame. Well mannered. Brought up right, but with a sense of fun that suited this country that she called home. More Aussie than German in the long run.
I remember how her eyes danced when ever we walked into her house. How she clung to us on arrival, with calls of “Bussi’ge’m! Bussi’ge’m!” Give me a kiss. Even if we’d seen her last week or on the weekend or just yesterday. She smothered us in love. We’d push her away laughing. Enough! Enough! Secure that we were her favourites. Her everything. She spoiled us with food, with gifts and always always with love.
I remember my Oma.