Londonderry Lane

There is a lady in my writing class who constantly writes these sort-of tribute pieces about loved ones- both dead and alive. Not that I want to write eulogies or compose a long one-sided story of all the great things about someone from my childhood or youth, it just made me think about how I struggle with characterization. I can tell you bits and pieces about someone, but I think that I disregard their entire image just to get to the point of the story: Me. I tell the reader what is applicable to the story, the minimum they need to know to understand- my characters are not very round. All my writings revolve around me. My problems, my struggles and my daily life are key to each of my pieces. Who I saw, what I did, how some event affected me. I know in a sense all creative non-fiction, essay and memoir writers are writing about how they view things, from their own perspective. But, I have so many great characters in my life!

So, I am setting out to write about someone. My Nana died when I was seventeen and I often feel like I hardly new her. This has bothered me because there is so much I do remember that I don’t want to ever forget. In an assignment I am giving myself I am writing about her. My research included looking at photos and asking family members what they remember. It’s hard though. The more I write the more I remember, then I hear what others remember and it makes me cry and “go there” again.

I am intrigued by the small things that make us think of someone; what conjures up those memories. Scents, sounds, songs, even TV shows can be tiny triggers into that time not so long ago.

Sugar-free sugar wafer cookies, African violets, canned Le Sueur peas, and rolly-pollies all remind me of my grandmother.

My sister shared this memory with me this week: “But the last thing I remember about Nana is her winter coat. When she was in the hospital the room was so cold so I put on her coat. While I sat by her bed she woke-up and rolled over to look at me. She said, “I have a coat like that,” I said, “This is your coat Nana.” She rolled back over. That is the last thing she said to me.”