“She has a rather long nose.” Thus was my first impression of the tiny, white-haired, 70-year-old lady that was to occupy the front bedroom for the following winter months.
We stared at each other with measured glances and I realized that she didn’t seem all that pleased with what she saw. She seemed unapproachable, almost austere. It was obvious that this was not the kind of grandmother I’d read about in my story books.
She said little to me during the first few weeks, probably because I did my best to stay out of her way. Somehow, I recognized stubbornness of character that was like my own. If she didn’t want to be friends, well then, neither did I! After several weeks we managed to establish a nodding acquaintance but it fell far short of the relationship I’d conjured in my imaginative mind.
Later that summer, there was a letter from her home up north. She wanted to know if I would spend a few weeks of my summer holidays with her. I nearly had a fit. I didn’t think she even liked me but no one else was able to visit grandma and I was old enough to take the trip alone. It looked like it was up to me.
When the train finally arrived at grandma’s town, I looked fearfully for the tiny, erect figure at the station but grandma was not to be seen. In her place was a tall man who introduced himself as my uncle.
If he’d been expecting a quiet youngster (like his sister, my mom), he was in for a surprise. I jumped and jogged all the way to grandma’s house—full of questions and full of chatter.
Grandma greeted me briefly and stowed my small cardboard case in the tall cupboard in the bedroom. She pointed to the big brass bed I was to share with her. I nearly fainted! Somewhere I’d heard that if you slept with a really old person they would steal all your strength. That first night I lay, straight as a seam, as close to the edge of the bed as possible. My heart pounded, waiting for morning. Sleep finally claimed me and I woke with a start. I was still alive!
It was a strange house with strange customs. The radio turned on only for the news and never on Sunday. Grandma did allow me to go to the Saturday late afternoon movie, but it only happened once. There was a delightful sing-song after it and I was captivated by the bouncing ball on the screen pointing to all the words. I got home late. Grandma was not amused.
Death has long since claimed her but she gave me a tiny mauve cup I admired and a taste for crabapple jelly. Grandmas come in all shapes and sizes and I wonder what my grandchildren will see when they look at me … only time will tell.
