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Minnie Mouse
Not really one of my favorite holidays but usually the most memorable for some reason. Maybe because of how the day begins with fresh grilled food or how the night ends with colorful visuals reflecting off your eyes.
Or maybe it's the decorations? Or maybe not.
The ones that my mom would go and pick up on an early Old Navy morning on Fourth of July to make sure we all had matching shirts.
“ Do you guys want red, blue, or white - actually let’s just go with red” she said.
“ Mom I’m in the fourth grade now I don’t need matching shirts!” I explained as she continued to checkout admiring the mini flags in line.
Perhaps it’s the family.
Or maybe it's the one that my grandma was so happy to gather the strength to wave in her hardest of times? She waved the flag effortlessly in her hand like a feather in the wind.
We called her Mickey. Grandma Mickey. Pronounced and spelled the same way as Disney’s most prized possession. But her name is Odell.
I still don’t know the true source of where that name came from. But she always wore a Mickey Mouse watch on her wrist so maybe she loved him that much to be nicknamed after him.
She had a very nice home with lots of windows, a beautiful dining area, and caring people. In addition, to these assets she had lots of friends. Those same friends of hers that would make me feel beautiful every saturday as if I was the prettiest granddaughter they had ever seen.
My grandmother was 70 years old, 5’5, with an amputated leg. Even without her ability to stand on two feet she still appreciate every moment in life and showed it with grace in her smile. I still remember walking down P street with her in my white open toe sandals and holding her hand. She looked so beautiful & happy with her short hair swooped over her eye and brown eyes glowing in the sun. A slight right dimple pushing through the side of her right cheek resembling the same one I see in myself when the joy is bright enough.
I look at this picture and I wish she could see the beautiful young woman I have turned out to be.
Even though my looks have changed I still see the mini her in me, when I close my eyes and sniff the same old fresh trees walking down the same street.
….
It definitely is the family.
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My grandmother inspired this piece.