Strolling with Grandma to See the Alligators

Hello my dear readers,

Today I spent the better part of my day with my family -- my parents, my aunts, my uncles and my cousins. We came together to mourn and celebrate the life of my beloved Grandma Elsie. She passed away peacefully on Monday, after a full 89 years of life.

Now, for those of you who didn't know her, she was a very special woman. She grew up in North Carolina, became a nurse in the Army, met my Granddad, a fellow Army officer, and fell in love. They married and moved to Connecticut. And after more than six decades of living up North, she never lost her Southern drawl. That, or her zest for life and the ability to tell wonderful stories. She was a great fan of hummingbirds, mallard ducks and alligators. Alligators?

Yes, alligators. The ones that live in the streams and creeks around the Elmwood section of West Hartford, CT. That's where my Grandma Elsie lived. You didn't know there were alligators in Connecticut? Let me tell you a story.

When I was a kid, my Grandma Elsie used to take me on strolls around her neighborhood. She did this with all six of her grandchildren. It was a timely ritual. She would hold our hands, hum little tunes and listen to us as we told her about whatever was on our minds.

On our walks we would pass many little ripples of water, bubbling over small and large stones, trickling along quietly. And my Grandma Elsie would stop, tell me I had to be very quiet as we looked, amazed, at the water below. "Don't you see them?" she would ask. "See what?" I know I was in awe. What were we looking for down below?

"Shhh. Look closely. Did you see it? The alligator?"

I would crane my neck, stand on tip toe, almost lose my balance as I leaned on the metal fence, all that stood between me and the ferocious creatures living languidly in their peaceful suburban sanctity, as I tried and tried and tried to see these reptiles. And I would strain and stretch my body as far as I could take it. I'd shade my eyes when the sun was in them. I would tilt my head to the side ever so slightly and squint. But somehow I never saw an alligator.

After a few minutes of the search, I would reveal my disappointment at having missed them. Grandma Elsie would just smile and say, "Maybe you didn't see them today, but perhaps next time you will." And on every walk, it was the same game. But, even as I got older, and realized perhaps the alligators could only be seen with my imagination, I still can't help but look down at streams, rivers and other bodies of water in the streets near where I live to try to see if there are any alligators.

I mean, why not right?

With a heavy, yet hopeful heart, I let the angels lift you up to heaven, Grandma Elsie. You were loved and will always be loved. Thank you for introducing me to the alligators. But more importantly, thank you for inspiring me to always see beyond what's right in front of me and realize how powerful my dreams can be.