Grandmother

My most vivid memory of my grandmother is her laugh. It was like a bell, welcoming us to her house.

It woke me there mornings, snuggled under her comforting quilts. Her laughter and the smell of coffee drifted into my sleep, drawing me into the warm kitchen, with its chipped enamel-top table and good food.

Though she left Georgia as a small child, Geaw-jah nevah left huh speech, which fit puhfectly with the silvah laugh.

In her dark blue dress, printed with little white flowers, she took me to the dime store for a treat. I remember a mother-of-pearl brooch that looked like a small animal, a box of delicate hankies, a pair of pillowcases for me to embroider. All the people in the town of Floydada, Texas, knew her. Her laugh rang out often as we walked down the street, holding hands. I was so proud to be with her.

The best thing about visiting Grandmother were the hugs. The soft crepe dresses, Grandmother's velvety skin and the wonderful smell of her talcum powder blended impeccably with the music of her laughter. What a comfort to be snuggled in that soft world, to be loved so!

Now I am a grandmother. My grandchildren draw laughter from me as if they pulled the rope tolling a silver bell.

Recently my second cousin e-mailed to ask about my memories of my grandparents, her great-grandparents. I looked up the vignette above, written more than 20 years ago, when being a grandmother was new, fresh and delightful, to send to her.

Now the three grandchildren I had when I wrote this are busy young men, having negotiated the dangerous years of adolescence. The other five range in age from 12 to 20 years. Being with Grandma is not cool. I know they love me, but also feel that they want me to keep my distance.

I long for the all-too-brief days when they wanted to be with me, to play, read stories, fly kites. No wonder my grandmother loved me so much. She had thirteen grandchildren older than I who no longer cared to be with her. She was still vibrantly healthy when her sweet welcome rang out as we arrived at her door. The five younger ones remember her as an old woman, still sweet and welcoming, but not active.

It strikes me that staying current with relationships is one of life's greatest challenges.