My Gran is the Grandest in the Universe

A Picture Book About Time, Love, and Being Grand
By R. Bronte Brown
FMF: Longing
My Gran: The Grandest in the Universe grew out of a longing I’ve felt at every stage of family life. As a child, I knew the freedom of being fully present. As a parent, I experienced the intensity and exhaustion of raising children. As a grandparent, I discovered a gentler joy, one rooted in time, patience, and deep love.

This story reflects my memories of childhood, raising my own children, and now watching my grandchildren grow. Each stage carries its own kind of joy and its own kind of loss. Childhood passes. Children grow. Grandchildren leave, and the house grows quiet again.

In today’s fast-paced world, time with family often feels rushed and fragmented. This book imagines a space where time slows down, where generations overlap, and where love is not measured by clocks or schedules.

At its heart, this story explores how families both fulfill us and awaken longing, a longing for what has been, what is fleeting, and what endures beyond time. For me, that longing ultimately points heavenward, toward a love that is complete, unhurried, and eternal.
This story is on submission and may not be reproduce, sold or used in any commercial avenue. 
Page 4: Dedication

Grandbabies create—
a rite of passage
where parents become
Grand.

Title Page 5
My Gran: The Grandest in the Universe
A Picture Book About Time, Love, and Being Grand
By: Rhonda Brown


Spread 1: Page 6-7 (Hook)

My Gran is the grandest.
She's my shining star.
Hi, I’m Annaleigh

Page 7 (Surprise)

My Gran is an alien.
Oh, not the kind from outer space.
She’s from another time and place.
Mom calls it yesteryears.
Tick-Tock / Tock-Tick

Spread 2: Page 8-9 (Time Shift)

At Gran’s house, time slows down
and busyness disappears.

The old and the new blend
in a cosmic way.
Tock-Tock-Tock

Both the past and present are a part of who I am,
and that makes me special.
Gran's phone sits holstered.

But I'm never bored.
I made the mistake of saying so once.
(Illustration: Annaleigh whispering to the reader)

Spread 3 Pages 10-11 (Action +Play)

Gran swished me off to hunt for hidden treasures
with only one clue.
Gran calls it The Boardroom Challenge.
I call it serious business.

Spread 4: Pages 12-13 (Imagination + Games)

The Boardroom Challenge:
What lies beyond its borders takes wit and cunning to master.
Yet, the cleverest of braves find a way to contend
with the game-meister.
Enter here.

Gran is the game wizard,
and I'm the assigned scorekeeper.

We battle with carriers, crazy eights, and checkers.
With a bit of strategy and luck, I win.

I am a whiz-kid at checkers. "Crown me!"

Spread 5: Pages 14-15 (Signature Moment)

But when it comes to marbles,
Gran exists in a world all her own.
Her marbles have names:
Galaxy. Stardust. Blue Ice. Jupiter. Pearl!

We set the playing field—
then disrupt the universe.
She is the brightest star in the universe.

Spread 6: Pages 16-17 (Time Rules)

At Gran's house,
we follow rules for time and space,
but not in any particular order.
We buckle up, watch the moon rise,
ride through meteor showers,
and watch the sun peek over the horizon.

We sleep till noon.

Spread 7: Page 18-19 (Food = Joy + Control)

Breakfast may come for dinner,
dinner for lunch,
and a snack for supper.
The best thing?

I choose my veggies—
cooked or raw,
with my favorite dipping sauce
and sweet corn on the cob.

I flatten my pizza dough into a moon-shaped disc.
Then add my favorite toppings:
pizza sauce, cheesy cheese,
and a pepperoni moon face.

No onions, please.
How cool is that!

Spread 8: Pages 20-21 (Ritual + Sound)

Peel, double whop- POP!

My job is to open the biscuit can,
lay each biscuit on the cutting board,
and slice it in half with a butter knife.
Gran fries them up, light and golden.

I sprinkle stardust—
crispy and warm.
Yum!

Spread 9: Pages 22-23

Other rules are hard to remember:
I forget to brush my teeth
or hang the towel after a shower,
or wash my hands with soap.

Growing up means learning something new every day.
I mess up. I'm sad when I do.
Yet-

Spread 10: Pages 24-25 (Reassurance)

Gran's shoulder is there
to remind me that growing up takes time.
I can't do it all at once.

Sweetest Gran in the universe.

Spread 11: Pages 26-27

Gran says quirky things like,
"Spots on leopards don't change."
“Good manners are free."
Never leave the house without putting on your face.
I don’t always get it.

Gran says my face is perfect.
I'm always good to go.

I'm cool with that.

Spread 12: Pages 28-29 (Love Made Visible)

"Yeah, Mom's here."
Mom sees smudges shining on the glass door.
"Uh-oh!"
Gran and I made those flowers
with hot-air breaths and glittered fingertips.
They sparkle like a prism bouquet in the sunlight.
Mom grabs the window cleaner.

“Leave them there,” Gran says.
“Annaleigh made those for me.”

I am loved.

Spread 13: Pages 30-31 (Generational Time)

We sit and watch old movies together.

Is that me?
No!

It's Mamma giggling
with Granny Sue
swinging from my tree.
Tock-Tock-Tick

Spread 14: Pages 32-33 (Goodbye)
Time resets.
The clock chimes.

Time to go.

Hugs and kisses
and sweet goodbyes.
"See you soon, Gran,"
I say with one last hug.

Spread 15: Pages 34-35 (Understanding)

As we head back to my everyday world,
a question pops into my head.
“Mom, why do you say Gran is an alien?”
“That’s bits of silliness, dear.

Gran said the same thing about Granny Sue.
Granny Sue and I were best buddies—
like you and Gran.
Grandparents have a special love
for their grandchildren.”

Spread 16: Pages 36-37 (Resolution)

“Now I understand.
Parents are parents,” I say,
“and Gran is Grand.”

Both the past and present are part of who I am.
And that makes me special.

One day, I hope to be an alien
just like my Gran.

Final Spread: 38-39 (Echo Ending)

Grandbabies create—
a rite of passage
for parents to become
Grand.

An alien kind of love.

6 responses to “My Gran is the Grandest in the Universe”

  1. My Life in Our Father's World Avatar

    I enjoyed your poem/story.

    I have noticed over the last couple of weeks that the link you add to FMF does not bring the reader directly to the post. It’s not a big deal to me but you may be losing readers who don’t want to spend the extra time searching for the connected post,

    FMF22

    Like

  2. Sandra K Stein Avatar
    Sandra K Stein

    I’ve noticed the same thing. When I click on the link I get a message that the page did not exist. I had to actually go to your blog and do a search for the title and it took me here, which I’m not sure is actually what you intended to post. It looks like a draft to a children’s book you wrote. I did enjoy reading it though.

    Like

    1. brontebrown2 Avatar

      That was my fault…It had an error in the title and would not let me correct it, so it is reloaded to the right of it. . I’m checking with WordPress because last week someone couldn’t access the upload. Please let me know if it happens again.

      The word for today was longing. Longing, time spent with family and how it is lost in today’s world. I wrote this story with memories of my childhood, my childrens and my grandchildren. I remember the fun I had as a child, raising my kids and the ease of having grandchildren. Families fulfill and create longing. I think it is representative of longing for heaven.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. brontebrown2 Avatar

        My Gran: The Grandest in the Universe grew out of a longing I’ve felt at every stage of family life. As a child, I knew the freedom of being fully present. As a parent, I experienced the intensity and exhaustion of raising children. As a grandparent, I discovered a gentler joy—one rooted in time, patience, and deep love.

        This story reflects my memories of childhood, raising my own children, and now watching my grandchildren grow. Each stage carries its own kind of joy—and its own kind of loss. Childhood passes. Children grow. Grandchildren leave, and the house grows quiet again.

        In today’s fast-paced world, time with family often feels rushed and fragmented. This book imagines a space where time slows down, where generations overlap, and where love is not measured by clocks or schedules.

        At its heart, this story explores how families both fulfill us and awaken longing—longing for what has been, what is fleeting, and what endures beyond time. For me, that longing ultimately points heavenward, toward a love that is complete, unhurried, and eternal.

        Like

  3. Sandra K Stein Avatar
    Sandra K Stein

    Looks like you were able to fix the glitch.

    Like

  4. FMF Jan 2026 – brontebrown2 Avatar

    […] My Gran is the Grandest in the Universe […]

    Like

Leave a comment

December Poems 2025

Winter’s Lace 

First snow, falling softly.                         
Amaryllis’ view from the window,
warm thoughts.

A little ray of sunshine,
that banishes winter blues—
Winter jasmine.

Cold persistence
Periwinkle’s winter wink
Pansies thrive.

Deep into winter
Primrose’s color delight,
stark against the snow

Varied highs and lows
February vacillates.
Snowdrops appear.

Narcissus’ beauty
shines for all to see,
defying winter’s hold

Colorful and sweet
Pansies’ cousin, Viola,
a winter survivor.

Glory-of-the-Snow,
whimsical, star-shaped clusters 
greet winter’s end.

Pale Season of Titivated Lace 
(rewrite of Winter’s Lace)

Vibrant blooms ignite
against a blank canvas
beneath brooding, iron-gray skies.

Amaryllis gazes out from the window;
a periwinkle winks back, whisper-warm.

Across a stark alabaster landscape,
autumn falls silent;
pansies persist.

Bleak and bitter, yet in defiance,
Narcissus lifts its radiant face.

A small ray of sunshine,
burnishing a crepuscular gloam,
Wendy’s Gold rises.

Lucille’s Squill emits its whimsical scent
As the season turns.



Write an imaginative landscape poem without using snow, snowy or wintry terms- atmospheric implication, art of resistance.
a brief magic moment
nighttide meets at winter's gate
light concatenates

#haiku #HaikuSaturday #haikuseed

A magical moment,
the sun stands still-
winter begins -

with a brisk,
cold
chill.
#haikusaturday #poems
Christmas Eve Night
Prelude to a noiseless world
Daybreak the fun begins
Wintry winds whistling 
Autumn's last dance-
a graceful genuflection
#haiku #HaikuSaturday
In sparkled light, night recedes behind the stars
tomorrow sleeps, harboring dreams once ours.
or
On silvery threads, dreams dance with joyous leaps.
Dreams dancing on silvery threads are for keeps.

Imaginative
Sheer trails appear laced with ice feathers,
Puck's in the wind searching for sky treasures.

Tiered January sky, nothing leaves a mark.
Eagles hitch a ride, ready to embark.
More verses: WIP 

Imaginative
Imaginative trails appear laced with ice feathers,
Puck's in the wind searching for sky treasures.

Sheer January sky, nothing leaves a mark.
Eagles hitch a ride, ready to embark.

In sparkled light, night recedes, tomorrow sleeps

Dreams dance
on silvery moonbeams
while tomorrow sleeps.
Molecules and particles 
testing each other, establishing
sanditon boundaries.

Sandillion is an old way to quantify something as numerous as grains of sand.

Sarah and Hagar
Twelve sons from each
A Lion and a wild donkey,
battle for supremacy
in the Middle East

Sandillion boundaries
seismic shifting, waiting to erupt, in the Middle East,
Russia and Ukraine.

The bad and the ugly of
Territorial boundaries,
where is the good?
Molecules and particles 
testing each other, establishing
sanditon boundaries.

Sandillion is an old way to quantify something as numerous as grains of sand; Sanditon establishing boundaries, particles and molecules.
In sparkled light, night recedes behind the stars 
tomorrow sleeps, harboring dreams once ours.

In sparkled light,
night recedes-
tomorrow sleeps

Dreams dancing on
silvery threads are
for keeps.
Short form:

Night recedes in
dancing dreams, tomorrow sleeps
in sparkled light.

(WIP) #HaikuSaturday
Show more
original
the night sky frolics
under silvery moonbeams
in stillness, dreams come.

dreams dance in joyous leaps,
skating on imaginative trails,
night treasures.

night recedes behind
the stars- no thought to pending
troubles, tomorrow sleeps.
----
the night sky frolics
under silvery moonbeams
in stillness,

dreams dance
on silvery moonbeams,
tomorrow sleeps-
seasonal leaves
grounding roots, true friends-
the rings inside
As autumn falls silent under evening's snow, 
sheltered seeds don winter's coat below.
Sleeping silently beneath winter's breath,
trees fold into a counterfeit death.

A magical moment when the sun stands still,
winter begins with a brisk, cold chill.

Wintry winds whistle ceaseless threnodies,
glistens frosty precip amenities.
Amidst frigid fields, icicles drip.
Cardinals swoop midstream for a sip.

Mice tucked warmly under subnivean snow,
moonbeams prance across a snowlit plateau.
Betwixt two of astral stars, the moon hangs bright,
eerie wolf howls echo through the night.

Playful trickery, a spring bud pops its head.
Winter snaps and tucks it back to bed.
Emmanuel is born to the Father's
delight - Israel's long awaited
hope. The Word sang a poignant
story, a pure melody.

It was a melodious tune for those
with a heart to hear.
The whispered melody arrived as
soft as the tiny beats of
hummingbird wings.

The dawning light of a new
beginning altered our precepts,
arousing a sanguine hope in a
song-less world.

The morning light hummed as
angels sang the Troubadour's
song of man's redemptive story.

Picture & Poem by rbrontebrown
WIP
Emmanuel was born
to the Father's delight.
Israel’s long-awaited hope.
The Word reveal its melody.

It was a soft, melodious tune
for those with hearts to hear.
Its whispered melody arrived as soft as
the tiny beats of a hummingbird’s wing.

(Wip)
It was a soft, melodious tune
for those with hearts to hear.
Its psithuric melody whispered softly
as whispered wings.

The dawn of a new beginning
altered our precepts, arousing a
sanguine hope in a songless world.

The morning light hummed.
Angel marveled. the Troubadour arrived.
of man's redemptive story.

Haiku version

Anticipation,
to the Father's delight,
Emmanuel is born

The dawning light
of a new beginning
slates our thirst.

Arousing
a sanguine hope
for the coming year.

A salubrious optimism
laced with intent,
tempered.




Suffering:
Fear and darkness abide side-by-side, hiding the old crone of despair.

Cohorts of hatred entrench themselves against the light.

Incoherent thoughts rattle the brain, searing the heart.

Stirred perturbation (agitation) summons dementia.

Death grins from the abyss, as the human soul withers.

Yet, darkness recoils at the light.

The old crone flees, abandoning despair.

Defeated, Death returns to the abyss.

Light enters, dispelling darkness.

Love’s glow lights the way, sparking hope.

Life, light, and love embrace the soul.

What specific events or experiences led to the presence of fear and darkness? 

How can love specifically counteract despair and the influence of death?

What does the journey from darkness to light look like for those who struggle with despair?
Drugs and confusion act 
as cohorts.
summoning dementia to rattle

the brain,
Stirring perturbation
pərdərˈbāSH(ə)n/,
darkness settles in.
Darkness cannot extinguish light.
shrinks away [recoils/ flees]from light. The old crone gags (gags) in despair
A dawning light hums,
the eternal once wrapped in clay,
has set Terra free. (resurrection)

The Troubadour sings,
illuminating darkness
with salvation's song,

His message rings true.
A gift of grace freely given
honoring choice.

The song of the church
is the gospel story of
God's eternal plan.

The harvest complete,
the church caught up,
Israel will once again
have a hand in redeeming
Man.
Santa's toys
And Christmas morn can
Never replace
Thankful hearts
And God's grace
#AcrosticAdvent #AcrosticAdventChallenge #poetry #acrosticpoem #Santa #WinterIce
Anticipation.
To the Father's delight,
Emmanuel was born

The Eastern Star shone
through the night
illuminating the way.

The Word sang a melody
for my heart to hear,
poignant and pure.

For those with ears
to hear, it was soft
and gentle.

Akin to the beats
of hummingbird wings, arrived
a whispered message.

A songless world
yearned for echos of the
Troubadour’s aria.


Prophecies of old fulfilled,
arousing a sanguine hope,
for redeeming mankind.

An Angel announced
the King's arrival.
He dwelt with us.

The dawning light
of a new beginning
slates our thirst.
synonyms for light:
beam blink burn dazzle flash flicker glare gleam glisten glitter glow illuminate radiate shimmer sparkle twinkle.
Winter Stores
Charlotte Brontë


We take from life one little share,
And say that this shall be
A space, redeemed from toil and care,
From tears and sadness free.

And, haply, Death unstrings his bow,
And Sorrow stands apart,
And, for a little while, we know
The sunshine of the heart.

Existence seems a summer eve,
Warm, soft, and full of peace;
Our free, unfettered feelings give
The soul its full release.

A moment, then, it takes the power
To call up thoughts that throw
Around that charmed and hallowed hour,
This life’s divinest glow.

But Time, though viewlessly it flies,
And slowly, will not stay;
Alike, through clear and clouded skies,
It cleaves its silent way.

Alike the bitter cup of grief,
Alike the draught of bliss,
Its progress leaves but moment brief
For baffled lips to kiss.

The sparkling draught is dried away,
The hour of rest is gone,
And urgent voices, round us, say,
“Ho, lingerer, hasten on!”

And has the soul, then, only gained,
From this brief time of ease,
A moment’s rest, when overstrained,
One hurried glimpse of peace?

No; while the sun shone kindly o’er us,
And flowers bloomed round our feet, —
While many a bud of joy before us
Unclosed its petals sweet, —

An unseen work within was plying;
Like honey-seeking bee,
From flower to flower, unwearied, flying,
Laboured one faculty, —

Thoughtful for Winter’s future sorrow,
Its gloom and scarcity;
Prescient to-day of want to-morrow,
Toiled quiet Memory.

’Tis she that from each transient pleasure
Extracts a lasting good;
’Tis she that finds, in summer, treasure
To serve for winter’s food.

And when Youth’s summer day is vanished,
And Age brings winter’s stress,
Her stores, with hoarded sweets replenished,
Life’s evening hours will bless.