Grand (mother) Illusions

I had already accepted the disappointment . When I couldn't find anyone to stay with J while I visit my grandbabies and watch my daughter graduate from massage school next month, I figured I'd just reschedule the trip for September when he's in school. Then last night as I was booking a client for her next appointment, she mentioned that her house sitter might be able to stay with J. Suddenly there's hope that Grandma Moon will be on her way to kiss those precious cheeks come July.

When I was growing up, I only had one living grandmother. She wore pointy glasses, apron draped dresses, and a size 11 shoe on those long Dutch feet. My grandmother always had a hankie tucked into her brazziere and she smelled like Ponds Moisturizing Cream. Her infectious laugh often filled our kitchen as she and my mother sprinkled starch water on the laundy or twisted pin curls into each others' hair.

I have six grandchildren, but I am not my grandmother. I don't bake, go to church on Sunday, play hymns on the organ, or do jigsaw puzzles at the dining room table. I don't wear nylons, let alone shoes, and I don't know what it's like to fall asleep next to the same man for 65 years. I've never made it past twelve. But I do like music and of all the things I would have asked to inherit from my grandmother I got: her laugh.

My oldest grandchild is lucky enough to have two grandmothers: an apron- wearing, cookie-baking, church-going lady who lives within a mile and a toenail-painting, pink-loving, barfeoot-going woman in California whom she calls Grandma Moon. When she and her mother visited last summer, E and I took a bath in my outdoor bathtub under the stars, pretended we were night fairies. We painted each others toes, had a squirtgun fight, traded knock-knock jokes in the car. At night we cuddled in my bed, looked out the window at the moon we share.

Because we live 2500 miles apart, I have to settle for talking with E on the phone in order to stay connected. Sometimes when she laughs I hear my grandmother's hearty bellow tucked inside the corners of her tiny voice, waiting to unfold. Sometimes I recognize it as my own. I hope she hears it, too. I hope that someday my grandmother, E, and I become a joyful chorus in the songs of her unborn children.

Comments

[kat]

grandma moon, i love that. i hope you're able to visit in july!

[Anthony V. Toscano]

Dearest Friend,

I'm not sure why I'm sobbing after reading this entry, but I am. In a soft, gentle way. Maybe this all has to do with love: You are lovely. Your love for your children is lovely. Your child and your grandchild (pictured in this entry?) are the same. I am fortunate to know you.

AVT

[ellie]

Thanks, Kat. I hope so too!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am blessed by your gentle tears, Anthony.

BTW that is me in the picture, with my granddaughter, taken during the Summer of My Braids ;-) (2003)

ellie

[Lu Ponz]

Timeless forearms...

[Pragmatik]

I like your braids:)

[ags]

Oh, Ellie -- you are an awesome grandmom!!! Your grandchildren are blessed to have you :)

[Jennifer]

Seeing as I'm not too far removed from conceivably traveling down the grandma path myself, I can only hope to follow in your inspired grandma-ness. What a lucky child she is to have you, even if it is from a distance at times. Clearly, she's close at heart always.

Beautiful writing, thanks for sharing.

[em]

ooo, Ellie--your trip to visit those grandbabies is almost here!!

[virginia]

Hi, this is my first time here and I just love it, can I stay???, just in case, my blog is in spanish, sorry, I used to have one in english as well but got tired of too much work, I'm going to comeback, grest blog, see you!!!!

[Fran]

What a wonderful, heart felt entry, El--and you and your beautiful granddaughter obviously takes after you. I got an e-mail out of the blue on the Ancestor Deck list I belong to from a woman who encouraged me with my own grandkids I'm raising. She had a similar thing happen when she was a kid and remembers what a huge difference it made in her life. I hope you do get to Michigan in July to see your family after all. What if you took Jake with you--though now I remember he might be working.