Grandmother

Grandmother 4/30/2021

Wendy Luft

               “I am on my way to the cemetery now.” June said to her sister on the other end of the line. “I want to find the stone for Ely Davidson. There may be other family members near by or in the same cemetery.”

               June’s sister Terry did not like being left behind on today’s adventure. She argued with June about not being asked to go. “I wanted to go too, now what?” She said in angry tones. “Even as kids you always tried to leave me behind. Where are you now and can I catch up with you?”

               Suddenly June hit the brakes of her car bringing it to a sudden halt. A cloud of dust erupted from the dirt road and slowly engulfed the car. Silently June waited for the dust to clear. “I am at Great Grandma’s house.” She said calmly as she noticed the small farm house to her right. “I forgot where it was. I am going to pull over and look around.”

               “Wait for me there,” Terry said excitedly. “I will be there in twenty minutes.”

June knew Terry would race to catch her and they would have a nice day together looking for relatives in the old cemetery just a few miles away. Now she stood beside her car looking at what once was her Great Grandmother’s house. The building was old and worn down. She started figuring in her mind the last time se saw the place. “I was fifteen when she died, I am twenty-nine now, fourteen or fifteen years ago.” Pictures of how the entire family gathered at this house for her funeral. Aunts, Uncles, and Cousins she had never seen before, all here to honor a woman ninety-seven years old and stretched out on a table in the living room. She remembered she was not happy at the fact she had to miss a pool party at her friend’s house to come here.

               June walked slowly up to the house, remembering the stories people were telling each other as they remembered Granma. Shadows of the people started forming in her mind so vivid she thought they might be real. A large man, bald and big was telling how Granma came to the porch and asked if he wanted some milk and cookie. “I was thirty years old at the time but if Granma asked if you wanted milk and cookies, you had milk and cookies.” His smile was broad and he had tears in his eyes.

               Walking up to the porch the boards looked suddenly different. Remembering how they used to look when she was little. A rocking chair was in the corner, she was sitting there, rocking and singing “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.” They would sing this together when she was little. She would rock in the chair while Granma would pick the beans that grew from the trellis that covered the front of the porch. Turning her head to look in the direction od the trellis, there she was, Granma. A short pudgy old lady with deep wrinkles. Her long gray hair was braded and wrapped in a circle around her head. She had about three or four teeth so every “S” sound was a lisp. June felt like she could almost touch her.

               The sound of chopping wood caught June’s attention. Was it real? She looked around to see where Granma would be splitting wood for the stove, just over there by the chicken coop. She walked slowly over to where the chicken coop would have been. Some wire fence remained tangled in the grass. Visions of chickens filled her mind as she remembered the smell and sounds. Granma’s kitchen had a wood stove for cooking and heat. This is how she cooked and stayed warm. “The kitchen,” she thought, “I want to see the kitchen.”

               June ran around the house to a back door. The kitchen was just on the other side. She turned the knob to find the door unlocked. Slowly she opened the door hoping it would not fall. It swung freely and the smell of dirt and dust filled her nose. Carefully she stepped into room, as the floor boards cracked. There it was, the stove. Suddenly the smell of cookies filled her thoughts. Cookies being pulled from the oven. Molasses cookies, the best anyone has ever tasted. This was not an old broken-down house anymore; it had transformed into a busy kitchen. Bowels on the table, pots on the stove and the warmth of the stove and Granma filled to room.

Two more steps and there was the old tub. It was black and dirty now but it was once a shiny gray tub. The same kind of tub you would see in a barn to water the animals. Again, the kitchen came to life again as June remembered how she took a bath in the tub once when she was spending the week with Granma. Taking a bath in the middle of the kitchen. Laughing to herself, “Talking a bath in the kitchen.” Funny now but at the time it was normal. That is how she lived, simple.

June took one more step and the floor felt soft. Afraid to step any further in the deteriorated house June headed back out the door and to the garden. The fence was gone, only a post or two remained. Weeds and new trees had taken over the space that once housed a lush growth of vegetables. June leaned on a fence post and saw her Granma working the garden. Picking vegetables and pull weeds. Seeing Granma working hard. June remembered her as an old lady. She was old and she was always working hard. “How did she do it?” June wondered. “I get tired just doing laundry.”

Suddenly June’s thoughts raced to a time when she and Granma would bring vegetables into the house to clean and process them for canning. Granma was a good teacher when it came to teaching her how to can vegetables. June remembered how fun it was. Cutting up vegetables and putting them in jars. Taking a taste here and there. She remembered the taste so vividly she was sure she could taste the carrots and radishes. Filling the jars with fresh spring water. “Water, the pump, I forgot about the pump.” She said out loud and raced back to the back door.

Opening the back door again she stepped inside. There in the corner behind the door was the sink with a water pump on top. A hand pump in the house so you could pump water into the house. The shadows of her father and Uncle John fixing the pump filled the room. It was summer and the stove was putting out heat while Granma was cooking dinner. The men were soaked with sweat and Granma was humming and stirring a pot of something as calm as could be. The water from this well was always so clear and cold. It did not have the taste of the water at her own house, no chlorine taste. “I could sure use a big drink of that water right now,” June said aloud as she closed her eyes and thought about how it felt as you swallowed.

               Walking out the back door and closing it behind her June was happy to have the memories still jumping around in her head. Cookies, water, the stove, vegetables, and Granma walking beside her. She came around the house to see Terry pulling into the drive behind her car. June walked up to her sister and smiled, “Glad you could come.”

               “What a shame,” Terry began. “To see this house falling apart, nothing left.”

               “I’m not so sure about that,” June replied. “There are plenty of things left behind, memories and shadows. Here let me show you.” June motioned to her sister and together they walked the shadows of the past. Remembering a woman that was such a big part of their life. “We love and miss you Granma.”