My grandmother is a mindreader. She can take one look at me when I walk through her front door and tell if I’m happy, sad, tired or stressed. Trying to hide anything from her is useless; be sure your Memaw will find you out. When I tell her exciting news, she often already knows what it’s going to be. She and I have been kindred spirits since the day I was born (which was the day after she fell out of her recliner upon being told my mom was going into labor).
My grandmother is a hockey fan. My grandpa taught her the game in his basement “man cave” many years ago. They created a new generation of hockey fans, then their kids created another. Which is where I come in. Not a week goes by that my Memaw and I don’t share a call or at least a text discussing the latest trade or the team’s chemistry.
My grandmother is a caretaker. She babysat me and my brother once a week from the time I was an infant until my family moved away from her, which broke her heart and mine. But, when her grandkids were grown, she was needed to tend to others. She took my great uncle to dialysis for years; she still takes care of her great-grandkids when needed; she even visits my grandmother on my dad’s side who is mostly homebound. Her heart is a generous one, and I hope to have inherited that from her.
My grandmother is a counselor. During stressful times when I’m away at school, I find a quiet place and dial her up, knowing whatever she says will be what I need to hear, even if it’s a bit of tough love. She is always ready to give advice, and whether it is requested or not, that advice is usually right. “Put yourself and your education first; forget about that boy and move on; don’t forget where you came from; use your bread to soak up your leftover spaghetti sauce because that’s what it’s there for; money talks and BS walks.” (Though really I’m not sure what that last one means, and I don’t think she knows either). It’s often her voice that sounds inside my head when I'm trying to decide the best path to follow.
My grandmother is a furniture mover, crossword puzzle expert, storyteller, ice cream fanatic, singer and the glue that holds our family together.
Most of all, my grandmother is my best friend. My family moved six months ago to a town just five miles from my grandmother’s. Being a college student who spends eight months out of the year away at school, it’s not the easiest task to make friends in a new area. When I was whining about this to my grandmother, the tough love came out at first. “You parents made the right move. You have your friends at school, and they needed to do what was right for them.” Then, she softened. “Besides, I’m your friend.” Just like always, that’s exactly what I needed to hear. What better friend could a girl ask for than her Memaw?
