Grandma was my father’s mother who lived in the same area as we so we saw her nearly every week. When I was little, I would go to spend the night at Grandma’s house. That was a real treat. I slept in my father’s old bedroom, the one where she kept the African violets and had the stairs to the attic. Foor breakfst, Grandma would fix me a soft-cooked egg with toast and real butter. (We had oleo at our house.) Then we would wait for the vegetable man to come. He had a horse drwan cart with fresh vegetables on one side and fruits on the other. I always wanted peas for our vegetable and cherries for our fruit. Grandma let me help her shell the peas and let me eat the cherries. She often bought peaches, too, and cut them up and we would have them on ice cream.
When I was a very small gitl, Grandma would take me on the bus downtown to the five and dime store for an ice cream soda. I loved chocolate ice cream sodas and she would buy me a book and then an ice cream soda. She was always so proud of me because I was so neat and never spilled any on my dress. I loved going on the bus with my Grandma. I felt very grown up.
My mother put a stop to my forays with Grandma when my Grandma would not take both me and my sister together. or take my sister on the same outings or overnights. My sister was a rascal and quite a bit out of control whereas I was a controlled, polited young lady. So if my sister couldn’t go, neither could I. But I saw a lot of my Grandma growing up through grammar school and we talked quite a bit throughout those years. My mother couldn’t stop that.
But when I was in high school, I went to school in the city. Every Wednesday I would take the city bus downtown with my friends and then transfer to a bus to my Grandma’s house and have dinner at her house with my Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle Donald. Then I would do my homework and either Uncle Donald would drive me home or my father would come to pick me up. It was my special time all through my high school years with my grandparents. I learned how to make an apple pie from my Grandma during one of my visits because I didn’t like my mother’s apple pie but I loved my Grandma’s so she told me her secret. I told her all my hopes and reams and problems and she listened and gave me good advice during our Wednesday dinners.
I went off to college but I wrote to my Grandma every week and she wrote to me. I saw her whenever i came home and every week in the summers. She met my fiancé and liked him, but died before we were married. She’s been gone many many years now and still I miss her. I sometimes talk to her and it seems that she is close by. Maybe she is.