nanny

Texas 2003, riding bikes in the early morning southern heat. I can still smell it. I can feel the crooked sidewalks underneath my tires. The way her laundry room smelled — like mildew and cleaning products. My sister and I would nap together in her papasan chair, and the air was always humid.

My grandmother, affectionately “Nanny”, had a gentle departure in late 2021 after years of sickness and earthly pain.

I have two tattoos inspired by this legacy. First, for Nanny, a Swedish Horse on my forearm. She was very proud of her humble heritage. I got it because of the figurine she kept in her living room. I just realized last week that, really, it was for her memory.

I also have a tattoo of my great-great-great-grandmother, Roxania. Her likeness has been drawn, drawn, and redrawn again by me and my dad. Exploring her image seems to connect us to her. The week Nanny passed, an older customer, surely a grandmother, came into the coffee shop where I work. She told me she loved my Roxania tattoo — and that our ancestors are always with us. Off she went. I’ve never seen her again. But, I think she’s right.

This painting was my grief and peace process in letting go of the physical manifestation of someone I loved and began to miss.

Nanny was intensely frugal, but she always gave her love intentionally, in a way unmatched by anyone in my family. Except maybe for my Aunt Sherry who spent the last few years caring for her diligently and lovingly. Sure, we had the luxury of missing her and making art while she withered away, but I say Sherry is forever a saint for her good work and selfless love.

Thanks for reading.