With life in turmoil, a move coming, an attic to clean out and a death in the family, I finally decided to take a minute and do something for myself. I couldn't face another box, or another of the many crates in the storage room behind the garret rooms at the top of our old family house.

At least we weren't moving because of the horrid necessity of selling it like so many of the families in the neighborhood. The current recession wasn't hitting us as hard. Royalties from Mama's novels continued to provide a nice tidy income.

I stretched out on the chaise lounge in the nook under one of the windows in what was the housekeeper's apartment. The last place we would clear out. Anna was already in our rental for the next two years. It would take that long to upgrade and restore this house to its colonial glory.

I found Grandmama's journal. After calling my husband, I opened the window letting the gentle spring breeze waft through the must and dust we dredged up. I wanted to read it and see the many pages of pastel landscapes she left behind. Each of them protected with a thin sheet of tracing paper from wear and possible loss when it was laid open.

A poem or short memory accompanied each of artist's works and I began at the first, instantly drawn into the tranquil scenes. This house with a horse and carriage stopped in front of the grand entrance, was the most imposing portrait of many in Grandmama's life.

We all called her Grandmama, but to me she wasn't even a memory. Yet her ghost whispered through the pages, creating a strange peaceful aura. She was my double-great-grandmother in truth, but no one in our extended generations dared to bring her age into focus. Grandmama was the only thing she acknowledged, and how she was spoken of to this day.

Charcoal provided definition in spots, and pastel was a misnomer for the medium. Colors brilliant with depth and nuance expressing her world with confidence and vibrancy I was drawn into with ease. My frayed nerves relaxed, and my mind dropped right into the scenes.

"You found it. At last! You're here, child."

A daydream I truly deserved, or was it? Mama always said she was a witch.