My gramma was an amazing woman. Some of you might have known her. Many of you never had the opportunity. As the only granddaughter, my gramma and I had a very special bond. I have countless treasured memories of time spent with her. When I used to sleep over, she'd let me pick bridal dresses from the JCPenney catalog, then draw, color, and cut them out for my paper dolls. I used to sit on her lap, paging through old photo albums, while she'd tell me stories about my grandpa (who I never got to meet) with stars in her eyes. Every once in a while I think I smell her... a comforting mix of Emeraude perfume, menthol cough drops, and fried chicken. But most of all, I remember her in the kitchen. My gramma was an excellent cook...and a pretty darn good baker, too. Wednesday nights were family nights- when all 12 of us would squeeze into that tiny kitchen (sitting on slippery stacks of Sears catalogs or, if you were lucky, the milk can!) to share a pan of baked spaghetti (OK, so this might not be the finest showcase of her culinary talents...) or chop suey. Widowed at a fairly young age, my gramma never had an excess amount of money- but she took great pride in cooking for her loved ones. Whether it was 20 different kinds of Christmas cookies, pompookies, or a simple bowl of cinnamon jello, her food provided a certain comfort and familiarity that I still miss.
My amazing gramma passed away on October 8, 2005. I can honestly say a day has not gone by since then that she hasn't passed through my mind. Sometimes it makes me happy. Sometimes I get terribly sad. When I look at my three beautiful girls, I know how much joy she would find in them, and I'm heartbroken that she never got the opportunity to meet any of them. We talk a lot about my gramma, though... and my girls talk about her frequently, too... to anyone who didn't know better, they'd never guess my girls and her had never met. I feel quite strongly that Maggie (her namesake) and my gramma have a special bond- there are lots of little quirks they share- so much that my mom and me have taken to calling Maggie "Little Midge" when we see one.
After my gramma passed away, each of us grandchildren were given a check- the only stipulation was that we do something "lasting" with it- no paying bills, no vacation, etc. I knew what I wanted to do with the money immediately. It just took me over 7 years to finally do it... We are finally at the point (as we talk about transitioning Hattie from her highchair to a booster seat) that we have outgrown our hand-me-down kitchen table with only 4 chairs. And, since I don't live in a funky New York apartment with my girlfriends, the thought of buying an extra, mismatched chair ("Friends" hello???) doesn't appeal to me in the least. So.... I went shopping. I had an idea of what I wanted, but had a hard time finding just the right table in a store. After a few months, we came across a place online where we could custom order our own Amish made table and chairs. After a few more weeks of debating between table sizes and chair shapes, we took the plunge and placed our order. The company was amazing to work with- and was MORE than patient with my endless questions and indecisiveness with the stain samples they sent. I think I put more thought into this than I did when we bought our first home! About 10 weeks later, they called and said our table was done ahead of schedule and ready to ship. We had to make sure we would be home- but they wanted to come on a day we already some big plans (did you read the American Girl doll post?) So.... they compromised. They ended up delivering it about 10 pm one Friday evening. And it was beautiful. But.... .it had no legs. Talk about torture! We had dismantled and moved the old table out into the garage to clean the floor and make room for the new one's arrival. Once we discovered the legs were not on the delivery truck, I was heartbroken (and thought it would be a great excuse not to cook dinner until they arrived!) But, once again, the table makers came through. They called Dan with an apology while we were on the train the next morning, and promised to ship them immediately. We had them within the week (and, yes, in the meantime we moved the other table back inside and I kept cooking....)
Anyway, I knew I wanted to plan something special for our first meal on our new table. Then... life happened, and it turned out not so special but it WAS pretty memorable. The girls normally eat breakfast at the kitchen island. We had actually assembled the table and moved it into the kitchen after the girls had gone to bed, so when they saw the table in the morning, they INSISTED on sitting there to eat their cereal. So...our first meal was pretty much Rice Krispies and OJ... which Lucy promptly threw up. All over. The new kitchen table. Ahhh... life.
Regardless of the meal served, the purpose is still the same- to bring our family together. While Dan carefully walks around the table, wiping up any stray fingerprints and admonishing the girls for breathing too hard in the direction of the new table, I love watching my family interact there. Every mark, scratch, and scuff is just another representation of our family spending time together. Years from now, those imperfections are what's going to make this OUR family table. In the past month, we have shared many meals at that table. We have celebrated at least one birthday and a Mother's Day. We have colored many pictures, completed a few homework assignments, and played a few board games. It's sounds so silly to think a simple kitchen table could have so much meaning, but I KNOW how much it meant to my gramma to be able to bring her family together.... and I know how proud she'd be to have a seat at said table... helping us make memories.
Love you, Gram. Happy Mother's Day.
