Grandmothers

I woke up the other morning thinking about my grandmother, Nanee. She was the quintessential grandmother—her essence, unconditional love and her home the embodiment of it. Many of my best childhood memories were made there: a simple cardboard box filled with old wooden toys, vacation Bible school, cinnamon toast, a cuckoo clock striking the hour, the smell of my Pawpaw’s pipe, a tall ceramic Siamese cat perched on the hearth, bubble baths, butter beans eaten with a toothpick, an old McCoy’s cookie jar and this green communal water jug, to name a scant few.

This is not THE jug, but it is the closest I could find on eBay. Everyone in the house, all the kids from the neighborhood—we all drank icy cold water from this vessel. We were a circle of hot and sweaty kids standing on cool linoleum with dirty bare feet in the light of the open fridge slugging water, smiling at each other, wiping our mouths with the back of our arms...I never saw Nanee refill it. It was always full and always ice cold. It was magic, just like childhood ought to be. Thanks Nanee.

Peace