When I was a little girl, my mom would send me along with my siblings to Virginia to spend time with her family. Those trips south ended too quickly and as an adult I have only a few memories.The memories are the ones my siblings and I spoke often about when we returned back home.
The most popular memory is of my little sister telling my Grandma her spanking didn’t hurt. We were all stun when she spoke back after getting a spanking! And, we remember what happen afterwards, my Grandma got another switch from the tree outside. Somehow my sister became a hero of us all and we celebrated that story by reciting it to all who would listen. We didn’t care that she got another spanking, what mattered was, she was not afraid to talk back!
Another favorite character of our memories was The Eagle. For some reason, we were also obsessed with The Eagle. Our grandma would warn us not to wander far from her house (which was in the country) and told us of the bears and other scary animals which lurked behind the trees. We were most afraid of The Eagle that could come at anytime and swoop a child up from the ground.
One day her stories turned into a frightful event when she ran outside her house while we were all playing and told us to hurry back in. She could see The Eagle in the distance. We ran back inside and watched The Eagle land in her yard. We were all sitting on the couch looking out the window, our hearts beating fast. The only two not crying were my older sisters. But everyone was truly afraid.
When we arrived back in New York, our mom had a time telling us that The Eagle didn’t travel to the Bronx.
Then there’s memories that are very faint.
One of me stepping on my older cousin’s feet just to see him get mad and ask my grandma ‘What’s wrong with her? She keeps stepping on my feet!” But of course I don’t know which cousin it was? Andre, Raymond?
Then there’s one of my grandma telling us to come back inside. She had a swing set attached to a see-saw that was made out of metal. It was green and white and as a little girl, I thought it was very huge. Every morning after a hot breakfast, we would run outside to play.
I remember the clothes line and the wash machine at the back of her little house. The clothes were always white and smelled of fresh lemon and grass. I would run back and forth between the white sheets until my grandma told me to stop.
I remember eating lunch and dinner. She would make mashed potatoes and ground beef with lima beans. That’s the only meal I could remember. I think it was my favorite.
And we always ate ices or ice cream for desert and snack. It was served to us at the diner table. The ice cream was always served in cheap, plastic bowls. The ones you’ll find at the dollar store. The ices were always on a stick. I remember us watching our grandma bite the ices without a care in the world. We didn’t know she could not feel the cold because of her false teeth.
Of course she took us to church services but I don’t remember much. So recently when my cousin drove me to the temple in Norfolk, I was certain it was my first time there until my aunt reminded me that I used to come to Norfolk as a child.
Yes. With your Grandma.
As she spoke, the memory of the layout of the church returned to me. I remember thinking how strange it was that all the pews in the sanctuary were not facing toward the pulpit, but some were on steps and placed against the walls. I remember running up those steps, thinking, a church with steps in the sanctuary is so cool! I remember sitting with my older cousins, Shawn, Mona and Dina who had the best handbags filled with stuff to satisfy a little girl’s imagination. I remember being given money to go to the offering but then, that’s where the memory stops.
In January I blogged about Stacy’s 99 year old Grandma, Mi Abuela Ana. Stacy and I thought about actives we could do with Abuela Ana to keep her mind busy. Most of them revolved around Stacy’s family. Her grandma’s children.
When her uncle’s birthday came around, Stacy invited me over.
Abuela Ana was sitting on the couch. Above her on the wall, there was a vintage photo. It was a picture of her and her late husband taken at photography studio. It seemed to be their wedding photo. The picture was striking because of her dress. It was long and modest. She saw me looking at it and through translation told me that it was a pink dress. But I don’t remember her saying anything else about the picture. As a matter of fact, I don’t remember her showing much emotion about the photo.
Ardas wanted to take the picture…