Remembering My Grandmother | Eastern North Carolina Now

    Publisher's note: Please join me in welcoming Author Michele Rhem, who presents us with her poignant memoirs of the Rabbit Patch, where her diaries weave tales of a simpler, expressive life lost to many, but gathered together in her most familiar environs - the Rabbit Patch.

    I am still biding time in Elizabeth City, the original "Rabbit Patch", so named because I am certain, there are more rabbits than people, here. The days pass along sweetly-some sort of beauty unfolding on every one of them. One needn't have a keen eye nor a sixth sense to find a friendly face, an old fragrant rose or a laughing river. Such things are far from rare, in this town.

    Most days, I take Lyla for a walk around the Riverside Village. Lyla remembers where every dog and cat live-and where the rabbits are likely to be. We usually stop at the banks of the river and when we do, a sense pf peace and quiet descends upon us. We watch the river roll by while light twinkles upon it. The river has been very blue, the last few days. It is hard to be concerned about much else, when you are watching a river tumble by.

    I am glad for the river and the quiet moments we spend by it. It gives me the fortitude I need in the midst of the commotion , of this season in my life. The rabbit patch is officially up for sale, after all. The summer is waning and by the time the August moon rises, I will be back at work. I have not seen my sons nearly enough to suit me, this summer and I miss them terribly. An Endless Summer is clearly a myth. When my thoughts become jumbled with too many notions, I remind myself of what is constant and steadfast. This consoles me, and so "my heart is not troubled" nor melancholy-but instead joyful at the prospects, for only love is constant and I am not short on that.

    Today is my maternal grandmothers' birthday. I grew up in her presence, and I am not sorry for it. She has been passed over forty years, now. She died quite suddenly in the middle of a cruel night. I was ten years old, and I am just shy of sixty now, yet I remember clearly the details of that July. I loved her so very much, that my eyes still sting, when I remember her. I doubt she ever realised that her influence would remain so mighty. She was after all, a farmers' wife who collected eggs, watered livestock and kept house. I don't suppose, she ever considered herself as valuable as she really was-to all of us. How could she have known that those trips to the "Dime Store" would be etched in my memory, and still a delight, decades later? We made cakes if it rained, a long spell. I still do that today. I wonder if she realised that the set of "World Book Encyclopedias" we referred to often, spawned my life long love of learning. Grandmama made a difference in my life-and actually in Lylas' too, and all the grandchildren, to follow. From "Edna Hodges Haddock", I learned what grandmothers do. They tell stories and teach rhymes, while they are snapping beans. They save pocketbooks and shawls in a chest, for dress up . . and they sing "You Are My Sunshine" while you sit beside them in a swing on the front porch. They love your freckles and call you "sugar".

    So it is true, as it is written, that " some things will cease, and some be stilled-and some pass away" but "love does remain" and maybe, that is what makes"it the greatest".