Gram A.

Sometimes I hand-write my blogs to feel it more. To re-live the experience more. To remember more. I’m not sure why, but it just seems like all the memories flood back more when I do that. I am taken right back to the day. I am taken right back to the memory. I can hear her soft voice. I can hear the love and the excitement in her voice. I can see her and hear her again as I hand write the words. I can sense her.

She came to visit often. It seemed often anyway. It was the Euclid house. Mind your manners was her motto. It was instilled in us. As it should have been. 

She brought food when she came to visit. Always the white bakery box. Always long johns. Filled with the white creamy frosting-like goodness. Topped with crunchy chopped peanuts. Perfection. Always. Always fresh. Always tasty. She also brought bell peppers. Colored peppers. Always red and orange, sometimes yellow. 

Those two items always remind me of her. I peruse the peppers in the grocery store for several minutes before ultimately picking what I perceive to be the perfect ones. I wonder if she did that too. 

If I see long johns from a bakery, I can’t help but compare them to the ones she always brought. 

I think the food was her way of showing us love. It seems like she would also bring fudge sometimes for mom. Mom loves fudge. I don’t. Maybe a teeny tiny sliver and that’s it for me. 

There was one time Gram brought me a pair of tennis shoes. She either brought them with her or we went shopping while she was visiting. I can’t remember what brand they were. The toes were slightly pointy. They were blue, kind of like blue jeans, and they had orange laces. I thought they were hideous. I was not a fan. I couldn’t tell her that though. What kind of grandkid says that to their grandma? None. No kid should ever do that. 

So, I sucked it up and I wore the shoes. 

The irony of that gesture and the help she gave at that time, is not lost on me. As a grandma myself, I can totally relate and I can totally understand. 

I do that with my own kids now. I help out when I can. I see what Gram was doing back then, so, so many years ago. The circle is complete. The lessons were taught. The help has been given. The action has been taken. 

Whether she knew it or not, she helped prepare us for life. She gave us life lessons. She helped form who we became as adults. 

Whenever I see the orange and blue color combination, I can’t help but think of those shoes. I can’t help but think of her. I can’t help but think of her soft voice and her soft skin. I can’t help but think of her instilling things in us. Helping us without us even realizing what was happening. Forming us. Molding us. Loving us. Thanks Gram A.