Three Aprils ago, as the azaleas and dogwoods unfurled their beauty, I picked up my 98-year- old grandmother at her assisted living community, and drove through North Raleigh neighborhoods.

Huba, as I called my grandmother, was in good health, but getting in and out of the car easily tired her. Along the way I went to a drive-through and bought a sweet tea and a large order of french fries.

This was a tradition begun a few more years back. I'd taken my grandmother to the doctor, and on the way back to Outlook Pointe (presently Elmcroft at Northridge), I was hungry. I stopped at a fast food place and asked Huba if she would like anything.

She said, no, that she was fine. However, as the french fries sat between us, her hand snuck down to take one piece of potato and then another.

Watching from the corner of my eye, I memorized the lines upon her hand and the graceful motions of her fingers. When someone is in their 90s, good health or no, you savor the moments and take nothing for granted.

So, three Aprils ago, as Huba and I rode through North Haven, Cedar Hills, and Quail Hollow, we sipped tea and ate french fries. We stopped here and paused there, studying blossoms of pink and flowers of white.

Three Aprils later, I am grateful for all the flowers that have been and for the ones that are here today. Perhaps flowers are tenderly precious because they are temporary. It is the meaning we ascribe to them that lingers.

The french fries and flowers of 2005 are long past, but the sight of Huba's hand is just behind my eyes.

She never read any of these columns I've written since a year ago March. She passed away six months prior in September 2006. My first offering focused on what would have been her 100th birthday.

So it is fitting that this last column be about my grandmother as well, at least in part.

The rest, equally appropriate, is an extension of my gratitude.

I first thank my good friends, Pat and Wilson. Pat, who thoroughly and conscientiously reads The News & Observer, called me one day in January 2007 and said, "Look in the North Raleigh News. You should send your writing in." Pat and Wilson are more like family, so their part in this column makes it even more special.

My next thank you goes to Dan Holly, North Raleigh News editor, for giving me this opportunity.

I thank all of you who have included my words as part of your day. It has truly been a joy to prepare this column for you each month. It is easy to wonder exactly what we give back to the community we live in. For the months of this column I didn't have to wonder.

My work will continue to include poetry, essays, articles, and photography. I am currently compiling a collection of some of these writings and corresponding images for publication.

There is also my novel-in-progress, set at a tuberculosis sanitarium. Uncle Henry, who I've mentioned in a previous column, spent 1929 to 1931 at Loomis Sanitarium in New York's Catskill Mountains. His photograph album and notations are my inspiration for this work.

I will long value writing this column for you these past 14 months. It has been my honor to offer thoughts about my life and family and to write about our evolving community. I appreciate every e-mail and response, and I've enjoyed writing back to each of you.

My grandmother used to say "one hand washes the other," meaning that when we sincerely give to each other, we truly help one another. I've shared my hand with all of you, and you have offered yours in return.

And, of course, there is a memory of another precious hand, reaching for french fries as the flowers bloomed.