As long as I can remember, my family has done puzzles together.
One of my favorite memories of my grandmother was when she would steal a piece when no one else was looking so she was guaranteed to put in the last piece.
We did puzzles during the holidays. We did them at the beach on family vacations. We often gathered around a table and talked (or not) and listened to music (or not). We worked together, piece by piece. It was a lovely way to spend time, together.
Recently, we did them while my dad was on hospice, with a table set up near his bed. It was a quiet way to pass the time and to keep our hands and minds busy.
Today, Diana came home after two weeks at her dad’s and once I was done smothering her with hugs and kisses, I opened a puzzle my friend Gail sent us and started sorting out the edge pieces from the others, and Diana started matching them up.
As the rain came down outside, we took turns putting pieces in place and picking out the songs that we played. I told her about the family tradition and my grandmother’s little trick. A few minutes later, I saw her slip a piece into her pocket with a sheepish little smile.
The tradition continues.
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