Second to her humility and faith, it was her soft, fair skin that I admired. Her skin was silky in texture and creamy in color, which proved to me that she had dutifully stayed out of harsh sunlight for her entire life. She is an adventurer, too, as verified by the many pictures of her (or taken by her) in national parks, campsites, the front lawns of museums. When I pictured her I pictured the color white. Her hair, her skin, her holiness. It contrasted sharply with the brown of their home- the dark carpet, the faint lighting, the deep curtains.
As I sat beside her, I studied the painted-flower pattern on her shirt, small and spiraling. Flowers, curtains… I remember now when I went to the home fabric store with her and Grandpa and helped pick out the sliding curtain with prints of sprigs of white flowers. So trusting, were they, to go with the idea of a child. As I held her hand I gazed at the window of her bedroom, letting in cool white light and framed by two long, lacy white curtains. It seemed to me like a doorway to heaven amidst the musty, yellow room.
--granddaughter Audrey De Haan
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