Grandma...

I read once, it takes one person to make a difference in a child's life. For me that one person was my Grandma Estrid. She was my dad's mom. Grandma Estrid was born in Sweden and I know she came to the United States as a young girl. I do not know much about how that all came to be but I do know she was fiercely proud of her Swedish heritage. She didn't become a grandmother until she was 61. To me that makes her a but older as a grandmother but she was a good one. It seemed as if she was always in charge. I know my grandfather was around because he used to be able to sit in my small white rocking chair when they would come to visit but it is she who I remember most. When my sister and I knew they were coming we'd wait and watch at the window, they could never get here soon enough. When we'd take the two hour trip to see her it also seemed we couldn't get there fast enough! I remember the Christmas presents she would send and how they were wrapped, the paper held in place by the ribbon. No sharp edges, always something soft inside. My cursive written name, the loopy K and the rest of the letters after, I could recognize that handwriting anywhere. I always knew I wanted to be a mom just as I am so sure I want to love my grandkids as much as my grandmother loved me! I only hope to give them what she gave me! That feeling of importance and that knowledge that you matter, you are loved no matter how ridiculous (me at age 12, it's on tape) you might be acting like at that particular moment. That unconditional, all encompassing love! What I remember about grandma. She liked to grow tomatoes and had great pride when showing you how many tomatoes she grew or how big they had gotten. She kept a cleaner than clean house. Every day had a different chore i.e., Mondays were washing, this was neat because she would hang the clothes on the line, I would most likely talk to her I can only guess. This is one of my fondest memories so she must have made me feel like my being there was important. Tuesdays might have been ironing. She had a big kitchen table that it seemed everyone was always able to fit around. Anyway, she would put something like a towel on the table to protect it and proceeded to iron on it. You get the idea that she went about her housework in an orderly fashion and her home while homey was clean! When we would stay the night we would get to sleep on the hide-a-bed in the couch in the living room. Her house was not very big but to us it felt huge! It was a two bedroom home and the kitchen opened into the living room. So when we were getting ready for bed we were still very much apart of all that was going on in the house. Prior to getting ready for bed we were allowed it seemed a half a can of soda. You would think that would cause either my sister or I to wet the bed but I do not recall that ever happening. I cringe now at the thought of letting a child have soda before bed but we were fine, it seemed to just be what she did. She also had candy that we were allowed to have, my mom didn't allow us to have candy very often so that too was a treat and probably why we liked going to her house! She always got up so early, I imagine around 4:30-5:00 a.m. to make coffee and read the paper, probably the only quiet time. When we would wake up she'd tell us to go back to sleep and we would! On week days she would be busy making lunches for my grandpa, uncles, whoever needed lunches, coffee and breakfast, getting them on their way. Weekends would be spent around that big table conversing, everyone having a say. I do remember she would get it all ready and you just didn't get up, she got it all. I think there wasn't room for more than one up as the area to actually move around was probably made rather small by the size of that table. I bet it sat 10 comfortably. I remember going to stay the week with her several times when I was probably at least 8. I would get to sleep in her bed with her. She snored and scared me when she'd talk in her sleep which she did alot. When I went to a technical school after graduating highschool I would go to her house about once a week for dinners. I would have to take the bus over and then my uncle would take me back across town to where I was staying with my aunt. The bus ride took a bit and I would have to walk about 6 blocks but how liberating that was to be able to go and visit her and my uncle and eat her cooking. She cooked very simply, a meat and potatoes type cook. She always made sure you got your fill. I took my friends to meet her and my husband and brother got to meet her. I think she approved. The older you get I think you begin to understand why things are certain ways. I sure do wish I could have a few more conversations. I think I'd ask, how did you meet grandpa and I would love to just talk...