Thankful for the sturdy pine ceiling timbers,
She hears every creak and groan in the night.
Bright orange flames flicker in the stone fireplace
Casting shadows across the walls of the cosy little cabin.
A merciless wind howls into the frosted darkness
Of a wintry night trapped in a frigid Arctic blast!
Nestled gently into the cedars and pines
That stretch along the banks of the nearly frozen river
The sturdy little cabin easily endures nature’s wrath.
In the pasty yellow light of a worn old lantern next to the bed,
Grandmother’s faded blue wool shawl pulled around her shoulders,
Her eyes devour an ancient memoir she treasures!
Grandmother’s diary is more than a hundred years old!
But lovingly kept in a handmade cedar chest for a century,
The journal managed to survive the ravages of time.
She could easily recite verbatim every single word,
For she has committed each page to the deepest recesses
Of her memory, where she lovingly keeps her family near.
But the words penned by her grandmother’s hand
Each one of them a priceless gem, are like stars in the universe!
Gazing upon them is glimpsing the very fabric of time.
The precious journal is a peek into her ancestry,
A graphically detailed account of a lengthy journey
That encompasses happiness, heartache, adventure,
Birth, death, love, and the struggle to survive against all odds!
Filled with stories about the courage and determination
Of a woman who believed life was what you made it
The diary seems to have a life of its own,
It inspires; it offers great wisdom; it is bursting with a love of life!
And as the glowing embers of the fireplace spread warmth
Into the little room, so does the priceless journal
Warm her heart, where her grandmother lives forever.
Turning out the lantern, she gently lays the book beside her pillow
A smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she closes her eyes,
Her grandmother was wise, strong and courageous,
And this is the stuff she is made of!
© Annabel Sheila