As a child, I was blessed with lots of time with my maternal Grandma. She was my most treasured and closest friend. We usually got along like cookies & milk. She was the cool and refreshing milk to my high strung sugar cookie.
“No” was not a word I associated with her. Perhaps she’d say, “not now”. That was pretty harsh coming from grandma. Her love was constant, her hugs ever present, and her heart bigger than her body. She taught me to use my imagination. She would tell me stories and listen to mine in turn (hers true, and mine pure fiction). I still smile at the mere thought of her.
My mom had two issues with her mother, both because grandma taught me very bad things. The first was to love lobster, and the second to appreciate Fannie May chocolates. Both very expensive things to desire out of life. And yet, these were the most expensive things grandma enjoyed. Money was never abundant, but love and humor were constants. Grandma taught me to enjoy lobster with butter and Fannie May chocolates with a thumbnail indent in the bottom.
Why would I enjoy chocolates with a thumbnail print pressed into the bottom? Because this was before the box had a much desired map guiding you through the decadent experience. Thereby, her small mark in the bottom center of each candy delight revealed the flavor. I would gladly eat the ones with that print left in it – so long as I liked the it. Grandma was my chocolate guide. Besides, I’d be hollered at if I did that. It was considered cute when grandma did it.
Our one disagreement arose whenever I was with her around 6 p.m. I would beg her to let me watch the Muppet Show. She would remind me of the importance of staying aware of the news in our community. I would beg her again and again to watch the Muppet Show. Eventually, she would make a quacking sound that I still hear as if it were yesterday. That quack meant that it was okay to change the channel, and I could watch the Muppet Show in her precious lap. Both of us delighted to be together.
There is nowhere better than to be in Grandma’s lap and surrounded by her love.
Morale of the Story: Life’s more fun without a map in the box of chocolates.