Today is my grandmother’s birthday. And not just any grandmother — my Grammy Buffington, the one I was named after. She died 25 years ago, but she is so present in my memories that it doesn’t feel like nearly that long.
Grammy was one of the most gracious women I have ever met. She felt that there was already enough negativity and ugliness in the world, so we should each do our part to add sweetness and grace. She didn’t tolerate gossip, and by the time I was a teenager she had totally sworn off watching the nightly news or reading the paper. Her love story(ies) are the stuff of classic romance novels, and someday I will tackle writing about them.
Other girls had mousy or dumpy grammies, but not me! I was secure in the knowledge that not only was my mother beautiful, but my grandmother was, too.
Happy Birthday, Grammy Buffington. You were the best ever.