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Welcome to familywisdom.com, a website dedicated to informing and inspiring couples and families. Each week you will find a new article, story or essay about parenting, marriage or life. Suggestions for articles and questions to Ellen Terich are welcome. You can contact her at e.terich1@verizon.net |
GRAMMY'S HOUSE 2003-10-26 When I was a child I loved to visit my grandparents. My paternal grandparents were quite young (in their late thirties) and still raising a four year old daughter when I arrived as their first grandchild. My grandfather still went to work every day, so most of my memories are of time spent with my grandmother and young aunt. When I came to visit, I slept in my aunt's room and usually woke up long before she was ready to get up. This only got worse when she became a teenager. I remember laying in bed for what seemed like hours on warm summer mornings, with the sun streaming in through the sheer white curtains, hoping she would wake up, and unwilling to get up and go downstairs without her. I did manage most mornings to make my way across the hall to the only bathroom in the house. I know time distorts, but it was the biggest bathroom I had ever seen, as big as a small bedroom. There was actually a large open space between the sink and toilet on one side and the bathtub on the other. Even though my grandparents' house was modest, when I walked into that room I felt surrounded by luxury. My favorite memories, though, involved dressing up and going out with my grandmother and aunt. We would occasionally walk or take the bus downtown to shop. But mostly, we would go to the library and my aunt and I would be allowed to check out books. I can still remember the smell of those library books as I paged through them again and again and taught myself to read. My maternal grandmother, on the other hand, was a widow in her fifties who shared a house with my aunt and uncle. The house seemed gigantic to my small eyes, and an endless source of discovery. It was a two story home with a cool, damp basement where cases of soft drinks were stored, a front porch with a swing where we drank lemonade in the summer, a foyer where everyone hung their coats and hats in the winter and a sewing room where scraps of cloth were mysteriously turned into dresses, pillowcases and doll clothes. When I think of the times I spent visiting my grandmother, a flood of wonderful sights, sounds and smells come back to me: the secretary desk where my aunt kept an endless supply of scented notepaper; the sound of horses' hooves on the pavement signaling the arrival of the milk truck; the smells emanating from the kitchen - of chocolate chip cookies and peanut butter fudge; the fizzing sound of my favorite ginger ale being poured into a small child size glass. I remember sleeping in an upstairs bedroom with the dormer windows open to cool the house on hot summer nights; the smell of soap in the bathroom; the sunlight coming in the breakfast nook; the enormous (it seemed) dining room table and the sideboard piled with goodies; the small detached garage with mysterious never-to-be-seen contents; my grandmother reminding me that "whatever is mine is also yours." My maternal grandmother died when I was 16, but my memories of her and her house are still vivid. Today, forty years after her death, I am a grandmother of two and my wish for my grandchildren is that they will love to come to my house as much as I loved visiting my grandparents. I want them to find mysterious places in my house that don't exist in their house. I want them to discover items they do not have at home. I want them to see Grammy's house as a place for exploration, a special world of familiar and exotic treasures. My granddaughter Grace is only four months old and can't yet appreciate a visit to Grammy's house, but my 2 1/2 year old grandson Sean can. I have purchased some toys to keep Sean entertained when he is here, but he really doesn't need them. He is entertained by all the new things he finds at Grammy's house. He knows every corner of my house and does not hesitate to investigate. He has his favorite places: the stairs, the upstairs computer room and the library with my collection of small castles. He also has favorite items: the chess board with mysterious medieval figures to arrange; the outdoor fountain to splash in; the stepping stones leading to the hidden side yard; the dolls and toys collected over the years; the photo albums; the myriad small candles in kitchen drawers. Now that Sean is talking, he goes from room to room discovering new treasures and saying "What's dis Gammy?" He looks in drawers and closets and manages to find things I had forgotten I had. He rearranges small nic nacs to his liking and hides other items in strange places where I find them weeks later. When Sean goes back to his house, he leaves my house in disarray, the remnants of his curious exploration strewn throughout the rooms. I hope he takes with him, however, lifelong happy memories that will remind him of Grammy and Grammy's house long after I'm gone. |