I want to be Grandma when I grow up.
Note I didn’t say a Grandma, although that will be good many years from now. When it’s time.
But no, I want to be Grandma. Wanna be just like her.
She’s not even biologically my Grandma. She is the grandmother of my dear friend. I heard about her long before I met her, but when I finally did, she did not disappoint. She was every bit as kind and genteel and lovely and grace-filled as I had thought she would be. And so much more.
It takes a village y’all, and Grandma is a big believer in that. It’s not so much that she’s said those words as that she lives them. At one point, I was talking to my friend about her grandmother, and I referred to her as “Grandma.”
“Oh, sorry, I mean, you know. Your Grandma.”
“Oh no, you can call her that too. Everybody does.”
And from that moment, she became my Grandma too. Because you can never have too many of those strong, wise, and wonderful women loving and encouraging you.
We don’t get to visit very often. But Grandma indulges me by reading my stories and encouraging me in my writing. She has come to know Aub, our Princess, and Cooter through the stories here. And they became hers too.
I found out today just how much they are hers. We stopped by to see my friend and Grandma and their family. GM got up from her seat and went to a table behind the sofa. She brought over two of her handcrafted treasures, handing one to me for Cooter (who wasn’t with us) and another to our Princess. She looked at Aub and smiled. “I’m working on yours.”
What a precious treasure we have in our life. Grandma had made Princess a doll cradle purse. When she opened up the purse, there was a sweet baby doll sleeping in her own bed, complete with pillow, blanket, nightgown, and bonnet. So very sweet. For Cooter she’d made a hand puppet owl. GM had wondered if our Princess still liked dolls. She certainly does, and she adores her new baby. This gift filled her with joy, and she hasn’t let her out of her sight since she got her. And what GM didn’t know was that a couple of weeks ago Cooter had a pair of socks on his hand, making them talk and do all kinds of funny things. This owl will be much loved and played with, just as the doll will.
For a long, long time.
Tonight I am thankful for my friend who shares her grandmother with us so generously. I give thanks for the life of Grandma and her generous, sweet spirit. She has a gift of crocheting and is really good at it. She uses it to bless so many who are hers and many who are not. She and those like her are the reason I find myself rescuing handmade crocheted and knitted blankets from the GW Boutique and other places like that. The amount of love and thought and time that goes into making each one–priceless. I can’t bear to leave all that love behind.
Most of all I’m thankful to be a part of Grandma’s village. One who gets to see her smile and hear her sweet voice. I hope to be just as generous with what I have and all that I am, just like her.
May you all find someone to love and be loved by. May you find your own “Grandma” or be that loving soul for another.
Love to all. (And especially you, Grandma–thank you for loving us!)
5 thoughts on “The Gift of a Grandma”
This post has made me miss my Nan, who passed away nearly 2 years ago. She had so many grandchildren, great grandchildren and even a couple of great-great grandchildren and she loved every single one. I still have the many crochet blankets she made for my daughters and the green cardigans she knitted because she worried they would be horrific red hair like I did as a baby.
Thank you for sharing your story. So very sweet. I love the picture you paint with those green cardigans. Nans and grandmas and grannies and all of them are just the best, aren’t they? Thanks for reading. Best wishes.
I am Grandma three times over. Eighteen years ago, when I first heard a child calling for Grandma in a store, I was startled to recognize that was actually me. Now that child is a young woman who this month will begin her studies at Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts. Amber is a young writer with Asberger’s, although I doubt you would see that in her. She is also a community activist, advocate for many causes and a remarkably good student. She has won thousands in scholarship money to help her begin her college career. I am writing to let you know how much I enjoy the insight you provide in her daily stories and to ask for your help. Amber’s writing is dark and interesting. Her favorite topic is teen subcultures of werewolves, vampires and other creatures of the night. She is not always technically correct, and I have become her unofficial editor of sorts. (Because i am slow, she has sought help from another relative on her scholarship competition essays.) I sat down with her in March and edited a short story that I really liked. I am going to ask if you would have time to read it and give me some feedback. This time around, her story is intended to appeal to a wider audience. Her talent with dialogue is really something. I have asked a couple of other writer friends if they would be interested in reading the story, but they all indicated they were busy, working on new projects, or want to be paid. We don’t have a budget for that. It’s been a struggle scraping together the funds just to get her into college. She was raised by a single mom who escaped an abusive relationship. Amber’s dad was a drug addict whose drug use and diabetes landed him in a long-term care facility. He is partially blind and undergoes dialysis three times a week. Enough about him. Today, after reading your Grandma blog, I decided to ask you if you could help us. I completely understand if you can’t do this, but I invite you to sit back for 20 minutes and, as I did, enter the mind of an 18-year-old with an imagination second to none. Please let me know. The story is on Google docs, easy to send and easy to insert comments. Thanks for listening, Tara, and please keep writing.