Me and Gram For some reason, my grandmother is on my mind tonight. I think of her every day, I miss her every day, but tonight, its more intense than usual…its hard not to think of her. Every where in my house is something she gave to me, or made me, or that used to be hers.
She knitted, crocheted, sewed. She thrived on challenge and novelty. She loved tackling a pattern, she collected unique yarns. She loved anything cute, quirky, beautiful. She painted plates, made baskets out of pine needles. She once owned a bookstore. She had a curio cabinet of painted eggs. She used to serve me hot chocolate out of a mug with a ceramic frog at the bottom of the cup. She loved frogs too.
I remember long weekends at her house in Clayton. She always, always had a treat, gift, outfit, book or toy for us when we went over. Even when we were adults. And once my daughters were born, she always had something for them too. Little things, special things. 100-year-old books or something she found at a library sale. Now, every where I look, I find them. A brooch, a scarf, a cup and saucer, a funny old book of nursery rhymes. Now and then my aunt, who lived with her, will find a box or something she had set aside for me. Even after she is gone, the little treats and surprises keep coming.
When I was single and alone and I needed someone to talk to or just company she was always up for a visit provided she wasnt ill. She loved my cat and watched him while I was away. She and I talked every week or so. She told me about what I was like as a little girl, without embarrassing me or making fun of me. She loved my girls so much.
I had a wave of sadness that my girls didn’t really get to know her as I had, would never have weekends at her house with special treats and trips to Goat Rock with Gram. They have a wonderful grandmother in my mother in law, one who gives them treats and spoils them at her house too. But I feel like everyone should have had a Grandmother like mine. A person in their life that was always happy to see them, always proud of them, always kind and always loving. She never spanked me, or put me in time out as a child. She never criticized me or told me she hated my hair or my clothes or anything. She was 100% nice, 100% of the time.
I feel badly that I thought I was too cool for her for a while. I listened too much to people who told me she was just a daft old besom. I missed some years, and now they’re gone. But I remember how her car smelled of spearmint and cigarettes. I remember her narrow little shoulders under my arm when I grew taller than her. I remember picking her up in her swimming pool. I remember her reading to me as a child, until she fell asleep. I remember her putting mud on my bee sting. She taught me how to swaddle my baby dolls. She made me a mouse costume. I made her earrings and a necklace from Fimo clay and she wore them to work.
She loved light houses, the ocean, dogs, jewelery, Oreos. She always dressed well. She was stunning as a young woman.
I hope I can always remember her, and that she doesn’t fade from my mind as the objects she gave me are slowly lost to time and use. I hope I see her more in my dreams, I miss her.