Sarah Elizabeth Gramble

The name rolled off his tongue like quick silver.  My non-reader, my imaginative, dyslexic child Joseph; he immediately responded when I asked what her name should be.  Sarah Elizabeth Gramble.  He was only about 8 years old.

She was a new piece of statuary at a local garden center.  Heavy as lead.  The real deal.  I was given a handful of money for Mother’s Day and told to go get her.  Children in tow, I went and looked and dreamed of my own garden and what it could be some day, and I came home with Sarah Elizabeth Gramble.

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Sarah Elizabeth Gramble is gone now.  I did not part with her easily, and she did not go cheap.  But she did not belong in an apartment.  I sold her for more than what I paid, and I made sure she went to a woman who loved her garden.  She was carried with care to the woman’s car, to a new home, to a new garden.  It hurt.

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Sarah Elizabeth Gramble, cold as stone, cold as what she is, she saw my blood, sweat and tears over the course of more than a decade.  She watched silently as  I tried with every fiber of my being to push my life out into every little corner of a happy box it should have filled.  She saw my love.  She saw my work.  She saw my broken spirit when I had been dealt with harshly.

It is a gut-wrenching, heartbreaking thing when you know it will never be.  When you have cried and prayed until your eyes burn.  When you have put on a happy face and told the knot in your stomach to be quiet; the knot that is evidence of the sick realization that what you actually live and what you want to live don’t fit together.

sarah_elizabeth_gramble_in_snowSarah watched the bees pollinate.  The first hint of green to push through the ground after winter; she was there.  She has worn a hat of soft snow.  She has held an apron full of petals of all kinds and colors.  She stood across the way, looking at me as I gulped tea after hours of heavy garden work.  She stood there, looking at me on days when I sat on the front steps and hurt from loneliness and sorrow.  Wherever you are, Sarah Elizabeth Gramble, I sure miss you.

2 thoughts on “Sarah Elizabeth Gramble”

  1. Lynn, you’ve brought tears to my eyes. I remember Sarah Elizabeth Gramble and I remember your beautiful garden. Just move forward. Can’t wait to see how beautiful your new garden will be. I love you! Mom

    1. I know, mama, and thank you for helping me with that! I am very happy today. It has been a fun, bittersweet, and sometimes maddening thing to go back through lots of these pictures! My new garden will be “the bomb.” Love you! Happy Thanksgiving!!

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