A mystery surrounds my grandmother's collection of salt cellars  . No one in the family seems to know when she started collecting them, or exactly how many she had. My grandmother died just over two years ago. At 91, she had spent 30 years without her right leg, which was removed due to cancer the year I was born. She was a poet, an artist, a food lover and a salt cellar collector. The funny thing about the salts, as she called them -- I never once heard her say salt cellar -- was that although everybody knew they were her hobby and everyone was always searching for them at yard sales or in stores, nobody seemed to know what they meant to her and they just wanted to make her happy. Grandma kept her salts in a dark wooden corner display case in the living room. Since her death the case has remained exactly as she left it. Grandpa tries his best to preserve his memories of her just as they are.  Now I am collecting, too. Collecting memories about my grandmother's hobby, a way she spent her time. And as I hold one of them in my hand, I picture her holding it in her hand on the day she got it. She is smiling. My mother and her two sisters all have small collections, but my mother admits that she was more interested in finding salts to send to Grandma.  Grandma once wrote a poem titled "When April Comes". The poem contains the line, "When April comes and I am not around, remember me when daffodils are found." Now, Grandpa is working on a poem with the line, "April came and you were not around". But she was, somehow. She was there in the memories left behind by her possessions. It can be inferred from the text that the author's family_.
are very proud of their interesting family history value the wonderful poems Grandma wrote are much influenced by Grandma's interest know much about grandparents' love