Memories of Grandma

The memory I will cherish the most about my grandmother is that from my earliest memory of her, to my last, I was always welcomed in her life.  As a little girl I always remember loving to visit Grandma’s house.  There was a playroom with plenty of little things to amuse, a creek out back to explore, and a full cabinet of cookies to enjoy.  Each room of the house was full of books and pretty things to look at.  But unlike many homes, you were welcomed to touch everything.  The cookie cabinet was never off limits, the treasures could be handled and admired, the books were for all to enjoy.  I always felt incredibly at home there.  When we visited, we could come and go as we pleased, playing for hours in the creek, hiding away in a comfy chair with a book, sneaking a few more cookies from the cabinet.  She was always busy with her own book, or newspaper, or phone calls, but she was never too busy to stop and chat.  I loved to listen to her laugh and share her memories. 

As I grew older, the specifics looked a little different, but the feeling of being welcomed never changed.  When I would come home from college in the summers I spent a few nights sleeping at grandma’s house, just because I missed her.  She was always ready for me.  When it was time for me to marry and my friends all arrived in town, it was grandma’s home that they stayed in.  She welcomed them with a big smile and open arms, just like I knew she would.  

By the time I welcomed my firstborn into the world, she was beginning to slow down a little, and my parents were living with her.  She and my mom watched my oldest as I went off to work part time.  Her home was cluttered with our diapers, baby bottles, and toys.  She loved every minute and never made a fuss about any of the noise or disruptions that accompanied our comings and goings.  Then my second child arrived and cried for hours on end, but she laughed at her stubbornness and never once complained.   


When we moved abroad, it was her home that we stayed in every summer during our visits home.  Taking in a family with small children for a few weeks is no small inconvenience.  But she never minded the mess, the noise, or the general disaster that we brought with us.  She enjoyed it.  In fact, my children’s memories of her, are much the same as my own childhood memories.  The cookie cabinet was opened without reserve, everything could be touched and admired, and there was always time for a story.  Her smile was contagious, and her laugh always ready.  She made my children feel at home.  In fact, they felt as much at home in her house as they did our own.  I love her so dearly for that.  What I will cherish forever is that no matter my age or my situation, whether I arrived alone, with friends, or with my entire family in tow, I was always welcomed with open arms.  She felt like home to me. 

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