I wanted to greet Ronda at the arrival gate. I couldn't wait to see her bright smile and big, blue, sparkling eyes.
Freeman's car was still parked in front of Gramma's. Impatiently, I picked up the phone and dialed her number. When she answered, her voice had a hint of laughter in it that annoyed me a bit. She knew who was calling and that I was getting impatient and it tickled her to see me so fidgety. Freeman was getting ready, she said. "He has to be just right you know. This is his sister you are picking up."
"We need to get going, Gramma!"
Gramma turned from the phone. "Freeman, are you about ready?" I heard her ask. She returned to the phone, "He said he is on his way. He's putting on his coat and heading for the door. You're going to come by here first after you pick Ronda up, aren't you?" she asked. "Of course. Do I have a choice? You and Ronda both would disown me if we didn't." I answered teasingly.



Even though we never got along until just before Ronda was born, my Mother was always there for me. After more than 20 years of marriage to the only man she had ever known, raising 3 children on less than a shoestring, my father left her for another woman. It had devastated her. But Ronda's birth gave my Mother a reason to go on. She tirelessly took care of Ronda while I worked 2 jobs, helping me raise my daughter, never complaining, always there. I couldn't have done it without her. And Ronda loved her Grandmother! She cherished her like a fragile china doll! There was no doubt the first place we would stop would be Gramma's.
I hung up the phone and as I turned my eyes caught a reflection from the glass covering a large framed photograph on the living room wall. It was of Ronda when she was 18 riding her Quarter horse gelding, Clabber Toe, over a three and a half foot jump at the 1984 Quarter Horse Youth World Show in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

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