The women of my past – my grandmothers, Rachel and Ivy – are mysteries to me. I barely knew them. Yet, their echoes live on, whispering in the cadence of my words, the artistry of my hands, and the flutter of my granddaughter’s fingers as she spins tales of fairies and dragons.
It’s funny how life weaves its threads. My father, a man of few words, was a poet on paper, his love letters to my mother filled with yearning and a breezy charm I never witnessed firsthand. Yet, from him, I inherited the gift of words, the power to paint emotions and experiences onto the page. From my mother, I learned to create beauty, to transform spaces into dreamscapes, and to find joy in the artistic dance of life.
My mother wasn’t one for reality. “I don’t like reality,” she’d say, and I find myself echoing her sentiment when asked to paint on commission. Like mother, like daughter, we find our truth in the realms of imagination and possibility.
Watching my granddaughter celebrate her fourth birthday, I see her mother at that age – the same fluttering hands, the same secret smiles as if listening to the unspoken stories of the heart. And I realize, this is our legacy. It’s in the dreams we weave, the stories we tell, the beauty we create, and the boundless love we share.
As I immerse myself in the wonder of my grandchildren’s world, I feel the roots of my family tree deepening, nourished by the fertile soil of their imagination. In their laughter, their play, their boundless creativity, I see the promise of a future where anything is possible. Where stories unfold, dreams take flight, and the human spirit flourishes.
For in the heart of a child, and the stories we weave together, lies the true magic of life – a legacy that transcends time, connecting us to our past, enriching our present, and shaping our future.
Namaste
Dare Boldly 
How beautiful you notice that creative spark that is passed through your generations. Each individual is so unique, yet truly is a kaleidoscope of those before them.
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We are aren’t we — so unique and a kaleidoscope of those before — love this image and wording! thank you. ❤
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Thank you so much Louisa, for this enriching and beautiful post. To start I love
your verse on the beautiful tree.
I so agree with you that people in our past family share the same roots and have many
times observed it in myself and siblings, cousins and children and yes grandchildren .
I was lucky enough to have my grandmothers around and loved visiting them , listening to one’s exciting tales and the others talk about wisdom. Both rang deep in my heart. I won’t go further here except saying I see it also so clear in the grandchildren. Magic. Makes us rich .🦋🌻🎶
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HOw very lucky you were Miriam! I only met my mother’s mother, Ivy, once, when she came to visit us when we lived in France when I was a teenager. My grandmother Rachel was always a mystery to me. And mysterious. She was Jewish, married to my Irish Catholic grandfather whom she divorced when my father was 8 and sent off to boarding school with the Oblates. His anger at her lastest his lifetime. ❤ 😦
When I"m with my French cousins, I am always amazed by our many similar mannerisms!
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We are a result of generations, aren’t we? There was not a creative one in a long line of women, as far as I know. My great-grandmothers, grandmothers, mother… unless finding ways to feed multiple mouths on little food is a type of creativity, that is. They didn’t have time to discover their inner poets or artists of any sort, sadly. I wonder what could have been?
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Wow Dale! That is the height of creativity – to make a little stretch to feed many! And yes — I think you’re right. Not having time to discover their inner creative essence would have impacted their lives, and probably kept the ‘what might have been’ from happening. ❤ Hugs
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There is that. And yeah, there must have been a lot of ‘what might have beens’… 💞
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