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Excerpt
from Book:
Grammie
Midge and her youngest grandson James seemed to have a very
special relationship. James seemed to have a special connection
with his Grammie. He truly loved to come and visit. He would
beg his mother and father to take him to see his Grammie.
He liked to go to visit her more than any place he could
think of. And James' parents often took him to see his grandmother.
When
James came to his Grammie's, he and his grandmother would
make cookies together (and more importantly, eat the cookies
together!)
They
would eat the cookies with wonderful milk, which James only
got to drink at his Grammie's house. This was not the thin,
watery skim milk which James' health-conscious family drank,
but delicious, thick, very cold whole milk.
This
milk tasted much more like the milk Grammie remembered drinking
when she would visit her aunts and uncles who lived out
in the country when she was a little girl.
It
was sort of out of fashion to drink this kind of milk nowadays.
Some said it wasn't even healthy (too much fat!). But Grammie
felt it was the best sort of milk to go with the cookies
she and James would make and eat- and James agreed!
Sometimes
James and his Grammie would play games together. Checkers
or Tic-Tac-Toe, it didn't matter what sort of game they
played, they just had a great time playing together!
It
didn't really matter who won either. It just mattered that
they spent this time together. James thought it was neat
that his Grammie, whom his parents said was eighty years
old, still liked to play games.
One
day, when James asked to go see his Grammie, his mother
told him, "James, we have something to tell you. Your
Grammy is making a move."
"A move? You mean she's not going to live at her house
anymore?" asked James.
Well
now James, you know that your Grampy hasn't been around
for a long time. You never got to know him, because he went
to live with Jesus in heaven a long time before you were
born. You know we told you that your Grammie raised your
mommy and all your aunts and uncles all on her own."
"Yes,
Dad," said James.
"Well,
" continued his father, "She's a very strong lady,
but she's getting older now. And when folks get older, it
gets a bit harder to do all the things they used to do.
Grampy's in heaven and Grammie's children are all grown
up now and live in their own houses."
"So
Grammie's all alone, now?" asked James.
"Well,
said James' mother, "your grandma has a lot of love
and help from all of us, but her house is still a bit much
for her to take care of. She'd like to move to a place where
she has a little help when she needs it.
"What
kind of help does Grammie need?" asked James. "I
try to help Grammie whenever I come to visit."
"Yes,
you do," said James' father. "You are very good
about helping your Grammie. But we can't always be there
when she needs help."
"And
Grammie sometimes doesn't feel so well," James' mother
interjected. "There is a special place where she can
live, and all the housework, cooking, and yard work is all
taken care of. And, if Grammie doesn't feel well and needs
a nurse or a doctor, someone will be there to help her right
away."
"Does
Grammie want to move?" asked James.
"Well,
said James' father, "Grammie says she will miss her
house, but she thinks this is what's best for her."
"Well,
if moving is what Grammie wants, then that's what she should
do!" said James.
"We're
glad you understand, James!" said his mother.
"I
just have one question, " remarked young James.
"Yes?"
said his father.
"Will
I still get to go see Grammie?" asked James.
"Of
course, honey!" said his mother.
"And
will we still make cookies together?" he wondered.
"Well,
I think that's up to your grandmother," said James'
father, "but I wouldn't be surprised if your Grandma
still made cookies."
"Grammie's
good milk too?" asked James.
"I
expect so," answered his father, smiling at his mother,
and patting James on the head.
"Now
run and play outside a bit before dinner," said James'
mother picking up a saucepan. And out the door the little
boy flew, yelling to his friends, "Hey guys! Guess
what? My Grammie's moving!"
©2002,
Michael D. Purvis
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