summers with mommy
>> Friday, April 9, 2010
I'd like to take this moment.. er, blog post, to reflect on a bundle of memories I have from when I'd spend summer weeks at my grandparents' home as a little girl.
"Mommy" is my late grandmother. She's was the most graceful, witty, classy, comforting, amazing woman I had the chance to know and love as a child/young woman.
During some weeks in the summer, I'd stay with my grandparents. Not always by necessity, but often just because I loved to be there.
As technology-dependent as I am presently, I love to remember that this was before the internet, cell phones, text messaging, ten million kid channels on television, video games (to the extent they've become), even pagers. It was my"good old days".
One memory that sticks out is sitting in my mommy's wooden, cushioned rocker while she sat on a stool behind me, braiding my long blond hair. Usually, the kitchen's window air conditioning unit was on full-blast (I always loved the smell of it). My Grandaddy would have the television up full-volume either on the local news station or one of the 'stories' (soap operas) he watched faithfully for the last 15 or so years, and still does today.
I'd sit up perfectly straight, all knees and elbows. I'd be the most peaceful and comforted I really felt so closely in those days.
Sometimes, mommy would half a grapefruit between the two of us, sprinkling it with salt. Big spoon in hand, I'd shovel bits of the tart and juicy fruit into my mouth, getting a spoonful here and there of all juice and salt -- savoring it's unique taste - savoring this unique moment in time.
After lunch some days, after we'd all eaten to our heart's content mommy's delicious southern meal, Grandaddy and I would take a short drive to the quickie store. Usually, this followed after mommy said with a smile "I want something sweet" followed by a look over at me for the "ooh me too!" grin of agreeance. Not too long after, Grandaddy and I took off in his sparkling blue Mercury. Our sweet tooth cure of choice would either be candy bars; a snickers bar for mommy, 3 musketeers for me, payday for Grandaddy. Or a pint of Kinnett ice cream each; butter pecan for mommy, chocolate for me, vanilla for grandaddy.
If we wanted something else to do, we played Rummy, Yahtzee, checkers. My Grandaddy has a checker set that looked sort of royal in a sense.
I'd look at my mommy's sewing box - full of objects colorful, small, smaller. I'd gaze through her thimble collection, taking in the words etched ontp the sides, twisting them around and around my small fingertips.
Grandaddy would sing to me in the swing on their front porch - the green grass grows all around all around, the green grass grows all around.
Some Sunday mornings, my Grandaddy walked up the small hill across from their house to go to church. He walked alone, bible in hand, in his button-up shirt. I'd watch him walk.
Mommy would speak of Patsy Cline -- where had the music gone to these days?
She told me of her father, what a hard-working, handsome and wonderful man he was. He held me when I was 6 weeks old and died shortly after.
Those long days of Summer never left my memory. I can almost hear the hum of the air conditioner, taste my mommy's buttered toast & sugary coffee just thinking about it.
I harbor a love that still pulses through my bloodstream, much like her strong features softened by a delicate smile.
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