My Grandma

Today is my grandma’s 93^rd birthday. Think about that. Ninety-three.

I grew up an hour away from my grandparents so there was no running over to her house after school for cookies. There weren’t many impromptu visits. We didn’t run into Grandma at the grocery store. Grandma didn’t babysit. But, I have plenty of memories of Grandma.

My grandparents lived in a huge white farmhouse with a green roof that was situated on 100+ acres of rolling farmland and woods. There were heavy pocket doors between the oversized dining room and cozy living room which was complete with an organ on which I pounded out Mary Had a Little Lamb over and over again. Her pantry wasn’t a shallow closet with builder grade shelving. Oh no, her pantry was a room (with a window at one end) just off the kitchen. A door separated the two rooms and when children didn’t catch it as it closed behind them it banged loudly and everyone got in trouble. Each of the three bedrooms upstairs rivals in size some living rooms I’ve seen in new homes today. My grandmother had a dark wood vanity in hers with square pulls on the drawers. It was placed up against the far wall and on either side of the mirror were glass lamps in the shape of southern belles. When she moved recently from her apartment into assisted living, I asked for those lamps. They are synonymous with my memories of spending time with her as a child.

Grandma was also homemade chicken soup, aprons (most of which were sewn by my mother), a bag of potatoes on a cold basement step, Breck Shampoo, a television with 3 channels and no remote, nesting dolls, a brown vinyl hassock, and vanilla ice cream in special child-sized dishes.

When I think about all my grandma has seen and experienced in 93 years, I surely hope some of her fondest memories are of my siblings and I because we’ve had so many wonderful times with her.

Happy Birthday, Grandma!