Isn't she a dish? I love my Grandma Randall (or Dorothy Rae). I have so many memories of her that it's hard to name just one, but my favorite has to be when I was younger (fourth or fifth grade, I think), and I used to spend my off-track time in Monticello. (Monticello is the greatest little town, by the way. I would definitely live there.) I remember she and I, both being book lovers, would go to the library and pretty much clear the shelves before hunkering down in her living room and just reading together. For me, it was always The Babysitter's Club series, or Goosebumps. So many quiet afternoons spent reading together and not having a care in the world. She was the editor of her high school newspaper, which I didn't know until the past couple of years.
I also remember climbing the small metal ladder up to the nook in the weeping willow that was between the lilac hedges and writing in my big red leather journal. I always got a little homesick just as the sun was setting, but being with my grandma made it better.
When we went to Zuma, I would squish in between her in grandpa in the white pickup and try to pretend I didn't believe we would careen off the side of the road as we made our way into the canyon.
Picking peaches and cherries, pruning the apple trees, making applesauce, hanging out the clothes to dry on the line (still the best thing ever, in my opinion), learning to quilt, driving to Cortez, bonfires and family reunion on Blue Mountain, fresh tomato sandwiches at Zuma, riding the three-wheeler and slowing down only when going by grandpa and grandma, getting Pepsi and cruising around town with Bonnie, hunting for arrowheads, watching fireworks from the lawn, Wagon Wheel pizza, French braiding my hair, walking to Motor Parts, the flower shop, going to church and having them say, "Oh you're Debbie's daughter?," not wanting to leave, the mansion house on the corner that I still believe I'll live in in and fix up someday, Pioneer Day parade, the firehouse bell going off at noon and all the dogs in the neighborhood howling, Navajo tacos at the carnival, eating ketchup with pepper in it for the first time at Slider's Cafe, glaciers at the Shake Shack, riding horses at Joi's, sagebrush and red rocks, people praying for rain, walking around Lloyd's Lake, spotting Anasazi ruins and tracks up the canyon at Zuma, the time I got a really bad sore throat but went to a basketball game with Heather at the high school anyway, being cured by echinacea, adventures in Moab and Canyonlands, getting a cactus spine in my hand, the baby frogs in the Zuma pool, adoring her wedding ring, writing her and grandpa letters while they were on their mission in Independence, Missouri.
So many memories, it makes me feel like I have another life trapped in another time.
