Grandma’s Roses

When I was just a little girl I used to sit with my grandma looking at old photos, listening to her stories filling with magic those long and tedious autumn and winter evenings when it was slowly raining or snowing. She had maybe three albums and stories for each photo.
Many years passed since that day. Few photos are left for me to remember today those stories. One of them was her favorite photo…she was telling me many times that when she was 16 ( she was born in 1911) she went to a ball and a kind of jury appreciated her original dress with fabric roses hand made. She made it with her own hands because she was talented, especially gifted for making different dresses or costumes. I still have that photo, although now it is deteriorated, I lost the albums somewhere in time, moving from one place to another. When I look at this photo I feel as if my childhood memories were running again in my dreams. Grandma’s roses and her love for flowers, the way she used to cut fresh branches with flowers in spring, decorating our room, the fact that she was taking out snowdrops from the garden in February, placing them in a pot, to see them blooming early in the house and many other beautiful moments.
I wrote a haiku to match the photo:

quiet rain —
grandma’s ball gown slipped out
from black album pages

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Categories: Memories | Tags: , , , | 6 Comments

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6 thoughts on “Grandma’s Roses

  1. aloha Cristina. this is beautiful. i find it very personal and yet universal too. i have my mother’s photo albums. i remember even as a child the wonder and ah and awe of going through those albums with her and asking and asking and asking… yeah, beautiful. aloha

    • aloha Rick…thank you so much, you captured my own feelings in your comment. There were many stories and wonders in those albums with black pages (the old albums had black cardboard pages, sometimes the photos slipped out). Thanks again, Cristina

      • exactly. black pages and little corner shaped bits that could be glued to the page so you could slip the photo into them. sometimes the glue stuff came off a long time later – but most are still in place. and of course she wrote names under the photos too. she always used “me” for herself tho. so you have to know who’s photo album it is.

        i dont know that you’ll ever find your albums or if there is even a chance of it – but i will keep in mind that we do not know what will happen tomorrow and that if there is anything possible or not possible – any of it can happen. aloha.

      • Thanks Rick. I lost a part of those photos myself and I feel sorry for that. Maybe they are somewhere hidden and I forgot where I put them. As for the other ones, this is the story: before his death, my father made a selection and he kept a part of them in new albums, this one among others. I lost my relatives one by one (grandmother, aunt, uncle and then father) and this is how those old photos went from place to place and were partly lost. Now the photos left are in other albums but I remember the dry glue traces in the old ones. A few were taken in old interwar photo studios, preserving that “air du temps” in my ancestors look.

  2. old photo albums are the best…it is great the memories that it rekindles…how cool all the flowers as well…

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