Just Enough

I got a Valentine's Day card from my grandmother--not the deaf Swedish one whom I often mention for comic relief, but the other one--this is an event close to a cosmic spectacle. My father's mother, my Nana, intimidates the hell out of me. I wish I could explain my Nana to you and still keep it concise--she can bake birthday cake from scratch over a fire, has her B.S. from University of Michigan, has had a full masctomy and colon cancer, has been to China, Greece and took Girl Scouts backpacking through Europe, had box seats at the Kennedy Center, speaks at least three languages, and I think she may be the person who invented gravity, I'm not sure. She is the most well-read and well-learned woman I have ever met. But I've never been sure if she actually liked me, as I am half of my mother, who I believe my Nana sees as her mortal enemy. Also, I get the distinct impression she doesn't care for my father too much either. When I was a child she saw my father in me and criticized me about it whenever possible. This has made our relationship building rather difficult, to say the least.
So you can see my surprise at getting a Valentine's Day card from her. A sincere, personal, personable card. It's her handwriting too, I checked. And you can share in my surprise at my desire to show her who I am. I wrote her a letter last night. I don't know why I want this--I can feel myself getting set up for a snide remark, dismissal, or outright rejection, but I really do want my grandmother to know me, as I want to know her. I am not my cousins but I'm hoping who I am is enough for her, for now.
--------------------------------------
I've run out of conversation. I've lost my ability to communicate. I'm all jammed up and don't know what's going on. So if I've talked to you recently and seemed sorta distant and/or distracted, chances are I was. It's just where I am.