Grandmothers

My mom is someone's grandmother. Well, she is many someones' grandmother. This makes spending time with her uniquely enjoyable. She is not my grandmother, but still her house has all the smells and tastes of children, even when they can't be seen for miles. Everyone who knows my mom knows she has a sweet tooth to no end. The moment I step into her house, all the rules about being good go out the window. As if by habit, right when I walk through that wooden door, I head to the refrigerator. It's like heaven, isn't it? You open that fridge and the bright light shines on everything as if it is on display. My mom has all the stuff I don't buy at my house. She has sodas and candy and cookies. She always seems to have an endless supply. When I tell her this she scoffs and denies it. Sometimes I will then stand at her cupboards and call out what I am seeing in them as if to prove her wrong. Many times she has a good reason why she has those treats: "Ariel wanted to make a cake for her friend".... "Oh, I had a friend coming over and wanted to have something to offer them..." she generally forgets she has all these wonderful, delectable treats. But I don't forget.

I don't generally crave soda or too many sweets. But as I pull into her drive-way, something wonderfully strange comes over me. I salivate a little bit wondering what lies inside. I suddenly feel hungry, and soooo thirsty. I walk through that door. Sometimes I bother to actually say hello to whomever is inside, other times, I walk straight past into that sweet, sweet kitchen. If Ariel is not there, I am in huge trouble. She saves me from myself. If she hears a snack wrapper opening up, she will swipe it from my hands and throw it down the drain. Literally. "You don't need that". I might beg a little bit, but I know she is right. Her and Lloyd are both good at helping me know when enough is enough. They have their routines down. They used to oblige me and let me eat whatever I wanted. But then I would moan about it afterwards and I have a very annoying moan. They tired of that and now they serve as my sweet soldiers.

When Ariel isn't there, I will pick at everything in site. It is wonderfully painful. I think I am somewhat entitled since I don't have any living grandparents. Where else would I get to indulge in child-like treats??

When I was a little girl, my mom and I spent quite a lot of time at my maternal grandparent's place. I remember she always had raisin bread. Always. It never failed. Back then that was what I always looked forward to about their house. Well, that and the rolled dimes. I don't know what it is about grandparents, but they are so predictable. They have these routines that you count on. Just as I counted on gramma to always have raisin bread, I now count on my mom to always have chocolate covered something in her house.

My maternal grandparents also always had those rolled dimes... and nickels, pennies, and quarters. They had them hidden all over their house. In hindsight, it is slightly strange... but back then, it was fun looking for them. On our birthdays we would always get a roll of coins. Usually dimes. We would get rolls of coins other times, too... but the birthdays without fail. As I write this, I wonder..... what was up with all that coin rolling??