I remember “Grandmother”. Yes, my mom asked me to call her mom Grandmother so that’s what I did. She died when I was 8 and I still remember (51 yrs. later) what it felt like to touch her. She was cold and felt like a statue. She died from complications of diabetis.
I remember how excited I was as we drove the hour-or-so trip to visit. It always seemed to take such a long time to get there. Of course, I would also get to visit my only girl cousin who lived near Grandmother.
There wasn’t much to do except explore. My favorite place in her house was her kitchen. She was always cooking when we got there and it was always delicious. Occassionally she would let me “cook” with her. Then I loved going into her pantry to see all the goodies.
Usually after dinner, my Grandfather would take me out to his garage (just a shed really) and I’d hop into his old Model A. Up the road we travel to my cousin’s house. That was the best ride of my life.
My cousin, my aunt and uncle lived over their store. Oh boy! You can imagine what those visits were like. Anything in the store I wanted, I could have. My mom used to say that drinking those sodas was what made me get fat. Oh well.
The store was really fun. There was kind of a sitting room in the back where customers could gather and visit with an old pot-bellied stove. All along the walls were collections of arrowheads which had been set into various shapes. I was just fascinated by it all.
“Those were the good ole days.” I sometimes wish we could go back to living that way when life was much slower, but then I wouldn’t be blogging would I?
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