newbuzz...The people I miss have been coming to me lately in memories. A simple story overheard about some other family's loved one or a flowery breeze at the end of a summer day can produce a feeling so strong that I catch my breath and pause for the experience.

Random relatives become clear to me as I dust off the old records in my mind.  I remember the way that G.G., (Great Grandma Carlson) and Grandpa Carlson were always happy to see us when we visited them at their house in St. Paul.  In a time when fast food was non-existent and junk food was rare, we were delighted by the large gumdrops in the candy dish at their house.

We were greeted at the door with a big smile and a loud, "Well, well, well...".  When we stayed for lunch, we had swiss cheese sandwiches on rye bread, something we would not eat at home without complaining.  But at their house we were thankful for it because it meant that when we were done eating, we could rummage through the button box and other treasures in the attic bedroom.

These great-grandparents were strange to me and I often felt awkward around them.  But at the same time, they were my family and it felt good to belong. Now looking back, I wish I had talked with them some more, looked at their pictures and asked about their relatives.

I know that they have shaped my life and even the lives of my children, though they never met each other. I smile when I fill the candy dish with gumdrops.  I save the buttons from our old clothes in my own button box and I hear myself greeting my pets with, "Well, well, well...".

The memories are tinged with a bit of sadness and longing for what is past.  I see that I am no longer the little one, but rather the middle aged woman, fast approaching old age and I wonder who will remember me and how those memories will shape another life.