So, today, my family went on a short hike. We drove to Whidbey Island, and went all the way to Ebey’s Landing. We set off, me carrying Bear (~30 pounds) and Jason making sure the two bigs kept going. They RAN up the first hill. So I said, “Let’s keep going!” At one point, Jason said, “are we going to turn around?” And I said, “They said the loop is only 3.5 miles. I bet the kids can do it!” At this point, prompted by generous helpings of M&Ms, Bear had walked 30 steps, give or take.

Long story short, I carried Bear the entire 5.5 miles (oops, forgot the mile from the car to the start of the trail and back). The two big kids (4 and just-turned 6!) walked the ENTIRE WAY, Jason with his still tender back carrying all of our stuff, and the two bigs laughing, playing, and running *almost* the entire time.

I was so proud, in the car, of how TOUGH they are — of what tough children we are raising (Eleanor is too little to be included on almost 6 mile hikes, but she’s VERY tough in her own way, believe me). I was thinking about who taught ME to be that tough — to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, long past the bald eagles and the sea lion, to the part where I had to turn back and climb the hill (again) carrying Bear’s sleeping body, to find my shirt which I had lost and which I thought had my wallet in it. I carried her, gladly, the entire way (we didn’t find the shirt — we did have the wallet).

Anyway, I came to my Grandma, my Granny, Bette Mills. She was the original tough person I knew. She was divorced during a time that people just.didn’t.divorce, and started her own business as her ex-husband caroused around their tiny town. She grew her small-town insurance company into a $1,000,000 business (in Pleasanton, Texas!), and was a guiding light to many.

Granny (in boldly colored dress) and Mamaw at Mary’s and my ceremony.

My visits to see her were a highlight of my year — her generosity and humor were legendary. And yet, at her core, was steel. She fell in love, but never married again — she would not give up her independence. She lost one of her sons, and helped her many beloved grandchildren through many small and large crisis. She was at my first marriage, to my first partner, Mary, in 2000. When I think about how she flew from Texas to DC and stood with us as we celebrated our love in the back of our home … I know she couldn’t believe my journey, as surely as I know she supported me on it 100%.

I really go back to one day, when I was visiting her at her house. I was playing on the dock at the creek out back, and got a really bad splinter terribly embedded in my foot. I was crying and crying, and wouldn’t let her help me. She knew that it was a dirty splinter and would get infected soon, so she spoke to me kindly but with toughness in her voice. No dice. I was not going to let her touch that foot.

After a half hour of trying, she said, “Libby, I’m going to take you to the hospital right now, or you are going to let me get that splinter out.” Something in her voice, in the way she looked at me, convinced me that she was serious, and that she was right.

I held my foot out. She gently and painfully pulled the splinter out. I was fine. She was strong. I remember how it felt to be cared for by her.

I am so thankful for my Granny. I hope I can teach my children some of the same lessons she taught me.