I believe Saturdays are Grandma’s day.
As a child, I remember that Saturdays meant a trip to Grandma’s house. There was always the promise of good food and endless amusement. When I arrived, my youthful eyes would scan the kitchen in search of special treats. When they landed on the cookie jar, sitting so proudly on the counter with its bright yellow flowers, I knew that was where the treats were hidden. I waited patiently until my petite, golden-haired grandma asked me if I wanted a cookie. It seemed like an hour for her to lift the lid to reveal the delicacy she had picked out that week. After my cookie and a few stories from Grandma, I would happily leave the kitchen and explore Grandma’s house with my brother. My parents would remain in the kitchen with my grandma, which gave us full reign of the house. We found all sorts of exciting things in the rooms filled with flashy pink flowered wallpaper. Every week was a new adventure. On a few exceptional Saturdays, we would hear my Grandma yell with a hint of excitement in her voice, “Check the living room table.” These words brought us to the living room to discover the results of my Grandma’s latest shopping trip. A new coloring book or a toy car would sit next to each other on the table, just waiting for my brother and me. These special surprises would be the perfect end to another magical visit with my grandma.
A few years ago, my grandma moved into a senior living apartment. With the move, and the inevitable aging of my brother and me, the magical Saturday visits slowly came to an end. Not long ago, my grandma fell and injured her foot. The injury was not serious, but she lost her ability to drive. We then noticed that my grandma seemed to not seem right at times. She began to forget things and repeat herself. My family thought that this was the beginning of Alzheimer’s disease. Some relatives become frustrated with her forgetfulness, but I don’t. Even when she asks for the third time how school is going, I never hesitate to repeat my stories, because I know she finds delight in being a part of my life. She always responds with a smile and a genuine Grandma compliment. It is times like these when I realize how much I miss Saturdays at Grandma’s.
Now I know that I need to make time to see my grandma. Although spending a whole Saturday at her house is impossible with the demands of schoolwork and friends, my family has made it a point to pick my grandma up for Sunday night dinners. These outings break up the monotony of her daily routine and allow her to see us often.
No matter how much time goes by, I will always see my grandma as the master of the cookie jar, the planner of surprises and the teller of stories. She was such a big part of my younger years and still remains an important element in my life now. Childhood is timeless. It is something to be cherished. I think that as everyone matures, they should never forget their childhood memories and they should hold onto their heroes.
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