March SOL Challenge #22
I don’t have strong memories of my grandmother. She died when I was about 16. I know we traveled about 2 1/2 hours to visit her every couple of months. We’d pile in the car and head south. As soon as we pulled into town I went straight to my cousins house down the street.
My grandma was very quiet. She smiled a lot and was always very agreeable. I know now that this is where my mom got her quiet and gentle personality. It makes me appreciate my grandmother all the more today.
A memory that stands out vividly for me comes from a certain room in my grandma’s house. Her kitchen. I can almost feel it now. The way my grandma’s kitchen floor felt under my feet…..
When I think of my grandma’s house my thoughts immediately go to that floor.
I couldn’t wait to run to the kitchen the minute I got out of bed.
I couldn’t wait to sit at the kitchen table while grandma made breakfast. My toes tickling that spongy floor. That floor was love to me. It represented my grandma and all of her tenderness and devotion to her family.
I didn’t know exactly how the whole thing worked when I was a kid. How the floor was heated. I thought my grandma had such a special house – such a unique house – that she was the only person in the world who had a heated floor. I liked believing that. It made me feel safe. Special. Loved.