Last night there was a package on the doorstep when we arrived back in St. Louis (we’d been in KC for the weekend.) It was from my Grandma, and later this week I’ll post about what it contained.
But first, a bit of backstory – when I was a kid, we learned to write cursive in the third grade. Being the overacheiver that I was, the year before – at Christmastime, when everyone was in town and gathered at my aunt’s house – I asked Grandma to teach me cursive. Her handwriting was so beautiful, and I wanted to be able to write just like that.
Grandma dedicated the evening to teaching me cursive, and from there I practiced and practiced. I was so proud the day I mailed off the first all-cursive letter – to her, of course!
But of course, I was only a kid and my handwriting left a little (lot) to be desired. It wasn’t as smooth and flowy as Grandma’s.
Now it’s been about 15 years since that Christmas, and even though my handwriting has improved it still leaves a lot to be desired. Grandma’s has gotten shakier with age and arthritis, but it’s still beautiful.
Last night as I was dashing off a quick thank you note in response to the package, I realized:
Look at those capital “M”s.
I think we’ve almost met in the middle.