Remembering: Grandma

I have a dandelion paperweight. It sits on my big black desk in my home office. It used to belong to my grandmother. It sat on her desk at work. I remember visiting her office when I was little and I would hold the paperweight and guess at how they got the dandelion inside. It was magic, I decided. She also had a purple magic wand that I would twirl. Maybe that's how they got the dandelion in the paperweight, with the purple magic wand. When my grandmother moved offices or changed practices (she was a marriage and family therapist), she always took her dandelion paperweight and put it on her new desk. I wonder if someone special gave it to her. Maybe she bought it for herself.

My Grandma and I, Christmastime circa 1988

When my grandmother died almost six years ago, her coworkers set up a room for people to visit and look at her things. They had a quilt they made for her when she was sick with messages of hope and encouragement. They displayed photos of her and played her favorite classical music. They had all the things she kept on her desk and told us, her family, to take what we wanted. I took the dandelion paperweight. It is probably the most personal item I have of hers. She looked at it everyday at work. She packed it and moved it many times over the years. It meant something to her, though I don't really know what. But I know what it means to me.