My Grandma
My Grandma
When I think of my Grandma I think about Christmas Eve in her basement – I think about her calling me Don, or Doug, and then remembering my name is Greg.
I think about spending the night, reading Little Black Sambo, playing dominoes and eating Devils Food cookies.
I think about pie, cobbler, homemade green beans, and grape juice.
I remember her singing and humming gospel songs while making breakfast.
I remember weekends at the lake, pickled cucumbers, fresh tomatoes, and wilted lettuce – I see her fishing for crappie. The way she holds the pole up with her left hand while keeping her right hand on the reel.
I remember her boat shoes and citronella candles.
But most of all I remember her smile.
GMar
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GMar
