Special Books

When I was seven years old, I gave my grandmother a small picture book for her birthday. It was, rather predictably, called "The Happy Birthday Book." Inside the front cover, in my best second-grade printing, I penciled:

From Anne
To Grammy
June 17, 1974

On my ninth birthday, she gave it back to me. I remember feeling insulted. Why would she give back my present? But underneath my original note, in her distinctive cursive, she had written:

For Anne Barton, April, 1976
because I enjoyed it so much
With love, Grammy

Well, two could play at that game. The next entry is printed in red marker:

To Grammy
June 11, 1977 (Happy B-day!)

I'm not sure what happened between 1977 and the next entry, but somehow the book came back to me, because in thick, gray marker I wrote (in a mix of cursive and block letters):

To Grammy, June 1980
Happy B-day Grammy!
Love, Anne

And again at the age of 16, I scrawled:

To Grammy (once again) with love, Annie
June 1983

The last entry is in my grandmother's handwriting:

May 1992 - What a change nine years has made! But I am so happy to tell you again that I love you and look forward to your wedding.
Grammy

That's a special book.