Me And My Grandma
My grandma, or Nana as I lovingly called her, was a wonderful person who I miss terribly and think about every day. It wasn't just that she always had a cup of hot cocoa and an after-dinner mint waiting for me at her little kitchen table for two, covered with a lace tablecloth that she got as a wedding present so many years ago, there were other little things that she did too after I finished my paper route on a cold, blustery winter's evening when all I wanted was to snuggle-up in the afghan that she made especially for me. When I couldn't feel my hands and feet with my nose turning white - a sure sign of frostbite, my nana would always rub my feet with her arthritic hands, kiss my nose, and tuck both of my hands in her apron, still covered with flour from the homemade bread she made just for me, until I was able to feel my hands enough to pick up my cocoa. "Feel better, honey?" she would always say. "You know your nana loves you and she always will. "I love you too, nana, and someday I want to do something special for you."
