My Grandma

Both of my grandpas died long before I was born and one grandma and I never met. My daddy’s mama lived so far away I knew her by the letters I’d get. My other grandma lived quite nearby in town, not so very far from our farm. I saw her quite often, sometimes stayed over night to avoid going home in a storm. She was barely five-foot and her shoulders were bowed, for she’d had to toil all her life. My grandma was widowed when Mama was small. She’d had little time as a wife. She took in washing to care for her brood. My mama was one out of five. Her work was so hard and the payment was small, enough just to keep them alive. There was no help for widows in those days long ago. The burden was Grandma’s alone. In all of the time that I knew my grandma I never had once heard her moan. She never complained that she’d had a bad rap, lived contentedly in her small house. No pension for her and no SS check her money would not feed a mouse. My daddy brought eggs, milk, meat and cream, whatever he could from the farm. She raised her potatoes and her fresh vegetables. Hard work could not do her harm. I never did know how she paid her small rent or for other things that she needed. Too young at the time, I didn’t think about that. If I knew then, my mind has deleted. I remember her meals always biscuits and jelly and a big slice of Daddy’s smoked ham. She helped my big brothers keep secrets from Mom. She was there if they got in a jam. She was honest as day, no one would she cheat, and only a fool would dare cheat her. My grandma had learned her hard lessons from life and life had been a harsh teacher. An atypical grandma, she suited me well. You won’t find her kind everywhere. Not much on kissing or rocking was she, But if needed you knew she'd be there. won a no. 3 in contest