Nature sings and singing, you help us
hear it, to listen exquisitely.

You plant gardens wherever we land.
On a tiny deck, a childhood backyard,
in rooms full of blue vases.

You taught us to breathe in deeply.
Walk slowly. Stop often for conversation.
The slower we walk, the more often we stop, the louder we hear
the extraordinary song of the world.

I remember you holding Max when he was a newborn, holding him through the night so I could sleep.
The two of you together. That same week, you planted a garden for us on our deck.  Tomatoes, geraniums, basil and rosemary, zinnias.  All summer, I would hold Max out on the deck and introduce him to
the scents of tomato and geranium leaves. 

Nanee, you are so loved.
Nana, you are so loved.
Linda, you are so loved.
Mom, you are so loved.

I smile when I think of you walking me across the bridge to the Westbrook playground. How you always held my hand and made sure I had my stuffed Winnie the Pooh.

 You drove me to piano lessons, ballet lessons, choir practices, friends’ houses, errand running.  I loved sitting in the back seat when I was really little and then next to you as I grew up. It felt like a safe haven, being with you. I didn’t want to get out of the car.…

On days the sun is quiet, and light can’t find us anywhere,
you taught us this: Have a cup of tea.

You taught us strength simply by living how you lived
with a loss at age 7 that would have buried the spirit of any adult.

But oh, you had things to do!
Children to birth, grandchildren to meet.
So many conversations with friends-to-be.
So many cups of tea.

Curiosity is your handshake, your door to each day.
Such murmurs of deliciousness you make, enjoying life as you do.
You take in the colors of a sunset the way most people take in a symphony
or a meal at a five-star restaurant.

You taught us that you don’t have to know how to swim to take pleasure in the ocean.

You are filled with history, with achievements, with ways the world works,
and you offer them to us on walks (I love going to the garden shoppe with you!), antiquing,
at the breakfast table, watching birds and imagining their life of flight.

 Physical distance is nothing to you. Your love can reach us in a single leap of light.
You taught us distance can be a magnifying glass.
The new perspective bringing everything closer.

And in case you ever worry about calling us at the wrong time, don’t.
Talking to you makes everything sweeter. Once you stayed on the phone with me
for an hour retelling our full family history for a project of mine. Thank you, Nana.

(When you come to town it is like a holiday! We wait at the door like panting dogs for their master to return. It’s you! Your home! We love you!)

 Today we wish you 80 spoonfuls of peach ice cream. 
80 birds in 80 species chirping out your window,
80 varieties of flowers.
80 new books, (including Harry Potter) and 80 years to read them
with a cat curled on your lap, one pot of coffee brewing in the background.

I remember just last year you talking to the woman who was checking you out at Walgreen’s. I came looking for you. The woman asked if you were my Mom. I said yes. She told me that you were the nicest most caring person she had spoken with in years. 30 seconds and you touched a life.

This is what we want you to know: Our love for you is forever.

We grow strength, we grow thoughtfulness, we grow curiosity,
we grow kindness, we grow tolerance, we grow respect,
we grow diversity, we grow wisdom, we grow joy,
because the roots of your love grow deep in us.

And on this, your 80th birthday, it’s clear.
We bloom because of you.