She was my best friend and I told her everything. When she would
laugh, her whole body would shake, the good kind of laugh, the most real of all,
and Lord did we laugh.
She gave me the gift of reading and my love for
books. She had books all over her house and most summers at least one day was
dedicated to romping thru used book stores; the kind you could bring books in
and trade/swap as well.
She taught me how to cross-stitch and we made pot holders with that ropey looking stuff you tied on a frame, and she also taught me how to iron. I don't know how many other people are aware, but back in the day, every man's undershirt, handkerchiefs and undershorts were ironed. That was one of my favorite things to do and it sounds a little unreal since that is the thing I hate most to do now.
I never went to her house that she didn't have Fig Newton cookies, ice cream and the best oatmeal ever made. We would make homemade milkshakes using ice cream, milk, vanilla flavoring, sugar and a blender. She had these tin cups in all different colors that kept those shakes so cold, you had to wrap your cup with a paper towel to keep your fingers from sticking to the sides like tongue to ice.
She taught me how to cross-stitch and we made pot holders with that ropey looking stuff you tied on a frame, and she also taught me how to iron. I don't know how many other people are aware, but back in the day, every man's undershirt, handkerchiefs and undershorts were ironed. That was one of my favorite things to do and it sounds a little unreal since that is the thing I hate most to do now.
I never went to her house that she didn't have Fig Newton cookies, ice cream and the best oatmeal ever made. We would make homemade milkshakes using ice cream, milk, vanilla flavoring, sugar and a blender. She had these tin cups in all different colors that kept those shakes so cold, you had to wrap your cup with a paper towel to keep your fingers from sticking to the sides like tongue to ice.
She made real cinnamon toast too, not that fake
cinnamon-sugar you buy now. She made her own with real sugar and cinnamon
mixed. Every now and again a morning will come along that I make my own
cinnamon-sugar toast, drink my cup of coffee and sit quietly thinking about her
for a little while.
You could always find some kind of real homemade
soup in her refrigerator. My Granddaddy came
home for lunch every day and had a bowl of soup and a sandwich every single
day.
There was no dishwasher in their home and I loved washing her dishes. Her kitchen windows went almost all the way across the back of their house; they were huge, wide open windows. I would stand there and wash dishes and look out over her yard and right smack in the middle was a big, beautiful Sycamore tree.
There was no dishwasher in their home and I loved washing her dishes. Her kitchen windows went almost all the way across the back of their house; they were huge, wide open windows. I would stand there and wash dishes and look out over her yard and right smack in the middle was a big, beautiful Sycamore tree.
The redwood deck that was on the back of their house
went all the way across the back of the house. We would sit out there a lot,
early mornings and later in the evenings after supper. She was the hero of stray/wild cats. They all
knew where to come for scraps and food, and her beautiful soul never let them
down.
This week two of my favorite people in this world will celebrate birthdays,
my grandmother in heaven and my oldest child Joshua will turn thirty years old.
How perfect that when one best friend would be called to leave me, I would gain
another beautiful person who would be another best friend for me one day.
Happy Birthday MaMa Eloise and Joshua, how fitting that your beautiful days
of birth are so close together, just like your place in my heart.
copyright 2016 Michelle Mount Mims
Also previously published @ The Havana Herald
Also previously published @ The Havana Herald
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