Grand.ma /gran(d),mä

Grand.ma /gran(d),mä

Noun – informal

“one’s grandmother”

The first instance of the word Grandma I remember is in reference to my grandma Diane who in my memory smells like cigarette smoke, hairspray, and the earth. Many, many things remind me of my grandma Diane. The sound of pool balls clacking together, loud country music, cigarette smoke, hairspray smells, gardens, and bits of corn, swimming in cold lakes, the smell of campfires, and the taste of burnt marshmallows. I remember the way her voice sounded gravely from the cigarettes she smoked, and I remember her laughing until she coughed, I remember the way she’d take a swig of Busch Lite and let out a belch like some teenaged boy. I remember how she always made food the way my Uncle Charlie liked it, even if he wasn’t there, because he was her baby and she adored him. I remember the way she held her head up high at my grandpas funeral even though she was hurting too, and she hugged my aunts, my mom, and my uncle and comforted them before she let herself cry. I remember her smoking thick cigars, making frozen pizza, hunched over her garden, and playing fetch with her cat. I remember staying up late and talking, and waking up too early to make pancakes, I remember camping and scrubbing her hair in a bucket while she cursed that the water was too cold. I remember, it didn’t matter how late she stayed up, she always woke up to eat breakfast with us, and I remember going sledding in the snow, in our pajamas.

The second instance of the word Grandma I remember is in reference to my grandma Jan, aka Grandma Vande Hey, cause she didn’t like us kids to use her first name. In my memory she smells like earthworms, sunshine, and fish slime, but in the good way. I remember all the times we fought over who got to sit on grandmas lap, even though we were all too old to do so, and how when I spent the night we’d play monopoly and she’d let us cheat and pretend not to notice. When I think of grandma Jan, I think of sprawling gardens, raspberry bushes, and a giant Christmas tree. The smell of the water and the taste of string cheese. I remember how her voice was soft and sweet and she never raised her tone and how she always hung a mistletoad instead of a mistletoe. I remember her arm around my shoulders as I nestled into a book and when I glanced over, she was reading too. I remember when I lent her my copy of the third harry potter book and she spilled fish juice on it while fishing and bought me a new copy. I can remember all the times I sprinted up her stairs in my socks and slid down them on purpose and how we jumped on the bed in the attic bedroom even though she told us not to. It didn’t matter if we were too loud, because I remember how she looked at us like we were the sun and she was absorbing us.

The third instance of the word grandma I remember is in reference to my grandma Sandy, whose still with us, she’s my dads step mom. When I think about grandma Sandy, I think about hair dye, magnets, pizza, and Halloween candy. I can remember her basement floor, cold and hard, but also standing at her island with the ‘adults’ listening to their gossip while munching on caramel puffcorn. I remember automatic bubble machines, m&m dispensers and electric fireplaces. I remember her rotary phone in her bedroom that she let us play with, or that we played with and she never found out, I’ll never know, and no, I wont ask her. Sometimes I remember how her backyard went forever because it was all woods, and then one day you could see through the trees to the next house and how we had every Halloween after trick or treating at her house and she let us sneak candy before dinner. Sometimes when I smell caramel I remember all the times she gave us caramel puffcorn at her Christmas party and let all of us kids run wild and free, and how her fireplace was the first electric one I had ever seen.

All my grandmas were incredible, but my strongest memories are from these three incredible ladies.