I never in my life called her 'Granny' but I know a lot of others use that term. Nana is another name some folks use. I called my mother's mother Grandma and she was the only Grandma I had.
When God made my grandma, He broke the mold. And isn't that what is intended? Grandparents are a gift, and like any good gift, I cherished her for as long as she lived.
When I was six I started going to Grandma's for the summer holidays. I believe my mother's strategy was to ensure we (my sister and I) got to know my grandmother. It was a good strategy. I've said in earlier posts she was my best friend and my closest family member; indeed she was the one person who I felt accepted me for who I was. I felt her love.
Grandma lived in a small Southwestern Ontario town, in a little bungalow. I remember her big four poster bed, which she let me sleep in very occasionally. And I remember her pink walls... I think as a grown-up I adopted her like for the colour. I liked her laugh and the way she made anybody welcome in her home. And I liked her name. I told her one day, if I had a little girl, I'd name her Sarah.... So, when I decided to change my name years later, I took hers. I think she'd approve.
Summers were humid... really sticky and unpleasant in Southwestern Ontario. I expect nothing's changed in that regard, though I don't know anyone who lives in that town now, as all of my family has moved away or has died. But the humidity never bothered me when I was young. I just remember endless days playing outside with neighbours, or inside with Barbies and the girl next door.
I remember we took over my grandmother's family room, except on weekday mid-afternoons, when she'd watch her 'stories' -- soap operas that is. There were soap commercials squeezed between cheezy melodramas that I ignored as a child and would learn to schedule my university classes around in Second year university. Oh, I inherited some qualities of Grandma I guess.
The best part of summer was the easy days and feeling of warmth and love. Though some of that was marred by my sister and I arguing. The worst I recall was the time that I hit her across her head with an old fashioned doll - the kind with the rock-hard head. My sister said I'd hit her in the temple and I could have killed her. My response was, "What's a temple?" I don't remember what my grandmother did then, I only know my sister lived on, though probably somewhat bruised temporarily.
Summers were not perfect, but I don't recall much that wasn't. If I could bottle up summers with Grandma and sell them, they'd make a wonderful gift.
If you've got a special relationship with a family member, like I had with my gran, consider yourself truly blessed. I do.
Best to you, until next Thursday.
|The one pic I have of my Grandmother|