Family

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Grandmas Are [not] Forever



When I was a little girl my grandmother was

my personal property!

I loved the times with her and easily took it for granted

that grandmas were forever.

We folded the old newspaper pages and

cut out strings of paper dolls,

we made ‘turtle’ pancakes and ginerbread boys.

We cut patterns for doll clothes and she taught

me to sew (carefully) on the treadle sewing machine.

I watched the yeast raise the dough ever so slowly,

but surely....never realizing that time works that way too.

Grandma stuck her false teeth out and

chased us around the house!

All of us grandies ran and screamed....

so...how could she grow old?

She still made oatmeal every morning...

or biscuits or bacon....

She still played the piano.





Then one day we moved away.

I didn’t know I would only see her twice after that.

I was nine years old and I really didn’t know

how old she was, for she was always doing things.

We came at Christmas.

In March we came again, to say goodbye to

Grandpa.

I saw Grandma then...and patted her cheek...kissed her hand.

I had a new baby sister to divert my attention.



But in May, I didn’t get to go. I don’t know why.

I wanted to, but the folks said no.

So I told them to bring me ‘something’ of Grandmas.



You see, I thought Grandmas were forever.

I didn’t want a “thing” of hers. But she left me gobs.



Gobs and gobs of memories.

Songs and poems and stories....shapes of cut outs from the

strings of paper forms to the Valentine hearts and the doll

clothes ‘puffed’ sleeve patterns. Memories of piano melodies and

one special Church service where communion was served...even to me.

So

I guess when I really think of it...



Grandmas are forever.





Joan Clifton Costner

copyright.

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