Some days just have moments, snippets of your life that you know are extra special right as they are happening. Today I had one of those moments. It was a melancholy day anyway, the eight year anniversary of Gram's sudden death, and Kim, Senia Mae, and I decided to take the back roads instead of the major highway. We ended up with a whole hour to waste, normally unheard of, and Kim said, "Let's get some ice cream."

We stumbled upon a Mom and Pop ice cream shop on Main Street in Alpharetta, an old fashioned brick colonial storefront with white painted trim and windows. It was exactly the building I would have imagined housing a little piece of historic downtown Americana and looked strikingly similar to the Pewter Pot Restaurant Gram and I would walk to when I was a child. I remembered warm corn muffins and hot tea in pewter pots as we pulled open the glass door.

Eight years ago today was the worst day of my life. I miss Gram every time I see my daughter mimic something she would have done, like taking a cardboard box out of the trash and saying, "We can re-use that!" But her death somehow kicked me into a new beginning, a better version of myself more available for giving and loving and becoming more of who I am supposed to be. That I wouldn't change for all of the apple turnovers in the world.

I miss you Gram and can't wait to see you on the other side.