Remembering Nanny

 Hey, Nanny . . . and Happy Birthday!

You would be 92 today. It’s hard to believe you’ve been gone almost 7 years.

I’m doing alright, I reckon, and I know you’re doing okay.

I’ve been thinking about you this morning, and just wanted to thank you for the love and laughter and memories that I cherish more and more the older I get.

Sometimes, I drive by that old house on General Avenue, and for a moment, I just want to walk through that front door, hear laughter coming from the kitchen, and walk in on you, Boe, Aunt Mary, Aunt Phoebe, and whoever happened to be there that day sitting around the table playing Aggravation.

At those moments, for a few seconds, my heart aches for you.

But later, I realize that each memory I have, the part of me that realizes I’m loved without condition or measure, that I matter, that I have a purpose, are gifts that I have in large measure because of you.

And I hear you whisper in my heart, “I love you, boy!”

And, no matter what else is going on in the world, or in me, I realize everything’s gonna be okay.

Because you’re here.

I love you, Nanny! Tell everybody hello for me.