Gee, can't remember exactly when it was we last sailed Lapras. I know it wasn't that long ago, but with a lot of other distractions lately, the memory has blurred away. Let's see. My mom and Bill were aboard. We motored East against the strong ebb in very light wind until the Easterly kicked in and whipped up a steep chop over the sand bar entering Suisun Bay. Hmmm . . . maybe I remember more of this than I thought . . . With the chop making the ride uncomfortable, we ran away with the jib poled out for a quick ebb-assisted sail home.
I remember that the last time out with me mum aboard was the day before her mum passed away. Last night, I wrote this to be read by me mum at me mum's mum memorial service this week in Manchester, England.
“Hi ya” Meant
Do you remember, “Hi ya”?
That thing Nana used to say . . . with a curl in her smile . . . a glint in her eye.
“Hi ya” meant “I’m glad to be here. I’m enjoying just being with you.”
“I’m me. You’re you, and that’s just right.” That’s what “hi ya” meant.
Sometimes the “Hi ya” was silent with just the curl and the glint to hint it was there. I’m sure that was the look she had when I first tried on the browny-greeny shorts she had made for me when I visited at the age of four. What made those shorts special was the matching marble bag she had crafted from the fabric offcuts. When I got back to the states, I was probably the only boy in the entire US of A with matching shorts and marble bag. Not something to be proud of, but I was.
“Hi ya” meant “how are you?” “I’m interested in what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling”
“Hi ya” meant “come talk to me. We have all the time in the world.”
A cup of tea, some “mmm, lovely” biscuits . . . Living half a world away, I don’t have a lot of memories of Nana, but characteristic phrases and images have stuck. Something about “me frock” or “me hat”. (Which like my shorts and bag, often matched, too.) Always loving. Always tender. Always Nana.
“Hi ya” meant “hi.”
“Hi ya” meant, “I love you.”
I remember Nana. I remember “Hi ya”.
“Hi ya,” Nana.
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2 comments:
David,
This is Peggy, not Dean...
I am so sorry about your Nana. I've seen photos of her over the years and have heard stories so I feel like I knew her. One thing I do know is that she raised an incredible woman, your mum, who in turn raised 3 amazing individuals. Your words really illustrate the warm and wonderful woman your Nana was.
The year Dean and I got married my Nana died and I wrote my " I Remember Nana" memorial. Like your Nana, it was the little things I will take with me forever...she, also, loved her cup of tea every day. She
loved opera music, always had her purse with her and lipstick on and could strike up a conversation with anyone.
We are very blessed to have had our Nanas in our lives. Send your mom a hug for me.
Hi Peggy,
Thanks for the kind words.
Nanas rule!
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