Monday, December 19, 2016

My Grandma

Last night I stood at my kitchen sink deseeding a pomegranate into a warm bowl of water. Deep purply-red juice stained the water, the counter, the knife, and my hands. As I felt the familiar popping release of the seeds loosening from the outer shell, my thoughts drifted to my grandma Arlene- my dad's mom. I still remember the day when I was 6 years old that she came to my parent's house with pomegranates. I had never seen one before. She brought me from the backyard into the kitchen so she could show me what a pomegranate looked like, felt like, smelled like, tasted like, and how it worked. The beautiful, exotic fruit fascinated me. She shared it all with me.

I remember that when my parents were building their home we lived with her for several months. I remember the time that I got sick at school, and she was the one to come and pick me up. When we got home she lovingly took me to the little room next to her bedroom where she watched tv. There was a sofa, and a recliner in there. She laid me down on the sofa with a blanket, felt my forehead with her soft, warm hand, and went to the kitchen to make me something to eat.

I remember her half apron she almost always wore around her waist. I remember her feeding my friend and me animal crackers with frosting after we had hiked to her house, and how that seemed like the most decadent treat in the world. I remember standing with her in her backyard garden, picking pear shaped miniature tomatoes that were orange, yellow, and red and warmed from the sun. I  don't think I've since eaten a tomato that tasted so good to me.

My grandmother was warm and soft. She had hard candy and kleenexes in her purse. Always. She wore long shorts with a t-shirt tucked in and Keds. She wore pink lipstick, and her hair was perfectly white.

I miss my grandma. I miss the feeling of being the little girl cuddled up into her side. I miss her comfort and constancy. I miss going to her home for Sunday dinner. I miss riding in the back of my parent's van with her by my side. I miss visiting her home and seeing dahlia's the size of my head in her hanging flower pots on the front porch.

My grandma showed me the beauty of being a woman. She taught me that when you're a woman you can be gentle and strong all at the same time. She taught me that taking care of your family is the most special task that will ever be required of you. She taught me that you take good care of yourself so you can take good care of others.  She showed me that you'll never be more beautiful than when you are truly you. She taught me that giving your time to others is the way you give your love to them.

I miss my grandma, and I so desperately hope that I can one day make a little child feel as special and whole as my grandma made me feel.

1 comment :

  1. I'm amazed at how many vivid memories you have of her and her house. I so often wish that I had known her better and could know her now as an adult. I know I would appreciate her even more. I miss her too.