Precious Memories

I loved my Grandma Etta, not only was I her namesake, but she had this way about her; from her gentle quiet ways which has left an imprint into my spirit and deepest recesses of my mind.

Though we lived in California and her and my Grandpa Allison used to live in Nebraska, my dad would do his best to visit his aging parents every chance he got. Most the time I went with him and mom, other times, he went by himself; those were the times money was tight. 

But this one time, with Grandma Etta stands out more than all the others. I was all of six years old when we were all sitting together around her kitchen table.  My grandma proceeded to ask me if I would help her in the kitchen, ‘as all fine ladies need to learn,’ as she proceeded to walk in that direction. She didn’t even wait for my response. She didn’t need to.  So, I obediently followed this woman I adored into this small little kitchen; much smaller than I was accustomed to. 

After the kitchen door closed behind us, she pulled out a coffee cup then a tall glass, then looked at me and asked, “Would you like a little coffee milk?”  (Since grandma had the coffee pot on all day long, because it was their custom to have coffee at every meal). I looked at her with amazement because the closest I was allowed to get to coffee in my young life was a whiff now and then from this stale cup of black liquid, Momma called ‘coffee’. Then my grandmother chuckled, because I must have wrinkled my nose.  She then said, “Don’t worry; there will be plenty of milk and sugar! But you gotta promise me this one thing?!” “Don’t tell your parents!” “You’ll get your grandma is so much trouble!”  I nodded my head and promised to ‘never tell’ on her. How I anticipated those mornings when grandma would sneak me coffee behind my parents back.

I still remember how it tasted, bitter and sweet, but the bitterness seem too crowed out the sweet. ‘But, I was a BIG GIRL NOW,’ hiding out in the kitchen, drinking coffee with grandma while ‘helping;’ making sure everything tasted alright!

Many mornings, when I drink my coffee my mind drifts back to those days with my Grandma Allison and a smile crosses my face.