As a young girl my grandma helped my dad out a lot on the weekends. When my dad had to work. On Friday’s she would come to get me and my brother.
My grandma was a bit more laid back then my father with getting our way. We’d go shopping for clothes, toys, and out to eat. You know the things most grandmas do?
She always enjoyed having us stay over.
The second you walked into her house it was like walking into a different world. She would greet us with a smile and hug. My childhood troubles would be lifted like a book-bag loaded with seven or eight books at her door. She would ask questions about our lives. What our you working on in school? Do you like your teacher? hows your dad been? I would answer her questions but tell her more about the bullies in my life. She’d quietly waited til I was done talking and tell me she was sorry to hear those things and that she loved me and to her I was special.
All the way up into my late twenties we continued to have a healthy relationship. I would still go over and stay all night. We continued shopping, going out to eat, and taking long drives, especially in the fall to see all the leaves changing colors.
In Illinois we have lots of trees one on top of the other so our falls here are stunning it’s worth the while. Sometimes we would just stay in. Those times were my favorites because we would talk for hours about her past with my grandpa, my future, shed tell me stories about her siblings, and all the places she traveled with her friends George and Dorothy.
During those times around her house my “Grams a Million” would always wear her night-gown. She dressed up to the nines when she went out. The clothes she wore she liked but some of them not so comfortable so if she was home she always had her night-gown on.
The gown was slick and light. They were not attractive at all. She had a million of them in a million different colors. They had a peasant low-cut neck, if you didn’t tie it with the dull drab strings, you could see some of her pale chest. The sleeves were short and airy, they had bolts of red, blue, and purple all over that looked liked streaks of lighting.
The backdrop of the gowns were black which made her blue eyes, pale skin, and short dark hair standout. The gown stopped below her knees. she was short and you could see her skinny white legs. She was always barefoot when she was home. Which I loved. To me it said she wasn’t in a hurry. You could take off your shoes and stay awhile.
Many late evenings when we were lounging around watching the Golden Girls in her night gowns. I sat and watched her rocking in her orange chair. knowing that one day this time would no longer be… Maybe that was odd but its the truth. We have to embrace that our loved ones will not be with us on earth forever.
I am so thankful and blessed for the twenty-eight years we had together.
Shortly after her passing I was able to go over to her house by myself. I walked through the house slowly touching and going over everything she had worked hard for all her. Like I was in a museum of old artifacts listening to her explain all the details of each piece. I thought it would bother me seeing it all packed and piled high.
At the end of my journey picking through things wondering if I should take this or that… With a deep sigh, I walked into her room, opened her drawer full of night-gowns, Anyone would do. She wore them all. I grabbed her old photo albums, laid across her bed, admiring her younger years, and pretending she was there with me.
When I left that day I took her one night-gown with me because it was my Million Dollar Treasure.
Life In My Tin Can 