February 3, 2013

• Biscuits in the Oven

  The thing about visiting old people is that you can't like anything.  Because if you say anything they just give it to you.  The kids and I visited my Grandma (93 years old) over the weekend and I ended up with a sack of 1950s Vogue patterns, a box of green crystal glasses (they were literally in her cupboard last night - she rolled them in newspaper and boxed them up for me this morning despite my protests), my son ended up with the rest of the apple strudel and my daughter was given the necklace off her body.  "That's a cool necklace," my daughter commented.  It was immediately draped over her head.  I was given a diamond necklace that I am trying not to think about too much.

  "Make a list of the things you want, Lea Anne.  No promises, but I want to know what you want so you will remember me."  I was tearing up.

  It's corny, but sheesh, how could I ever forget her?  I can't even post any of this on Facebook because she's ON Facebook.  She gave me the diamond necklace because she saw that I lost a necklace last week.  (I posted about it on Facebook.)  I don't want anything, of course, I just want my grandma.  She spans my entire memory - always in that house, in that kitchen, still mixing biscuits on her counter and talking to her dog and sitting in her favorite chair.  She brews coffee and reads the paper and holds her own in any conversation.

  We had a nice visit.  She has been sorting letters and cards.  It was fun to look through those things with her.  We went through her college yearbook and she shared stories about her childhood and young adult hood.  She and I both laughed about how quickly time passes.  We helped her with some house and yard chores.  She told the kids stories.  "Your mom used to like to stand on her head between the bean plants.  All I could see were her feet sticking out above the plants."  She enlisted the kids to help her put mulch on her roses.  "Doc gave me that plant," she said, referring to her husband.  "He's been dead, what, 45 years?"  She seemed surprised that it had been that long since she was widowed.  The mud triggered a memory of playing in the road ruts in  front of her grandparents' house after the rain.  "Nes and I pretended we were alligators," she chuckled.  In the span of 5 minutes she had memories of 35 years ago, 45 years ago and 85 years ago.  All memories are sharp for her.

  There is so much that is striking about her.  She has one of the sharpest minds I have ever known.  She is delightful to spend time with and a wonderful hostess.  (I hear her struggling to move around the kitchen and I know that she will not take my help with everything, so instead of trying to take over I try to help.  I know that she will mix biscuits as long as she is breathing, so I don't fight that, instead I get the jelly and set the table.)

  How many times have I eaten biscuits at that table?  I couldn't even tell you.  But I know that I will never forget her biscuits, and I bet my kids won't either.

  • 5:17 pm
  • 2 Comments