She HATED her name…both of them… Ione Peal. She went by Pearl, because it was the lesser of the two evils.
I just called her Grandma.
She wasn’t a runner or a athlete of any kind. But she was strong, lovely and could make a mean carrot cake. She found herself raising a 15 year old for a few years, me, and I don’t think she knew what she was in for. But it was that time in my life, that changed me. It gave me focus, consistency and discipline and unconditional love. For that, I will be forever grateful to her.
Death is weird. They are gone…just gone. Every time I think about her, I realize, I will never see her again. But, as soon as that feeling washes over me, I feel a comfort. I know she is there, watching, pushing me along, making sure I meet my deadlines in life, like she did like every night, waiting for me, when I came home a few minutes after my curfew. She is my lady, and I miss her.
I am calling this The Pearl Shirt.
Road. Trail. Track. I Own It.