September 20, 2002
maybe in tir na nog
Someone, who will undoubtedly read this at some point today is spying. I just want to let that person know that I think it�s really rather sad that they feel the need to do it and that they�re not as brilliant as they may think.. It�s an online diary honey, other people in Arizona read it and I can assure you that you won�t get any astounding secrets here. So happy stalking and why don�t you consider signing the guestbook? Yes, I know you wouldn�t dream of giving me that sort of �confirmation.�
My mom called this morning to let me know that Mama Concha (i.e. my maternal grandmother�s sister Constance) died last night. She was the most wonderfully sweet person I�ve ever met. The perfect storybook grandmother.
When I was a little girl I used to love spending time at her house..
She lived in a cottage in the mountains and I would spend hours in her back yard pretending to be lost in a vast dark forest. I would search for fairies and elves and dryads and pixies. I would pretend that I was a witches� apprentice and search out herbs to use in magickal potions and talk to the trees.. I would eat green apples that I believed were bewitched to send anyone who ate them to the realm where the Tuath de Dannan live.
And whenever I got hungry I would walk into a kitchen that was always full or rich wonderful smells. Mama Concha would be drinking coffee or tea and there would be freshly prepared food waiting for me on the stove. She would sit and watch me eat with a smile on her face and brag to her friends about how much I liked her food (I was an exceedingly picky eater back then). Afterwards she would give me tea made from plants in her garden with lots of sugar and tell me stories.
I really am going to miss her though I haven�t really spent time with her in years. But in a way I�m also happy that she�s dead. She was in bad shape towards the end. Bedridden and constantly in pain. But you know, even then she always had a smile and a hug ready. She really was remarkable. I�m glad she�s not suffering anymore.
1:33 p.m.