Eating Pancakes With Grandma
I did not think I was hungry until I wandered into Grandma land.
She had a stack of light fluffy homemade pancake a mile high.
Already stacked on my plate, oozing in warm tasty butter and syrup.
I started to beg off, but then I saw her crestfallen look.
I picked up my fork and took a tiny taste, which was not enough.
You added corn! I shrieked, delighted.
I had not had corn pancakes for years.
Grandma knew they were my favorite!
No one made corn pancakes like she did!
Just the top two, she told me. Wait until you get to the second layer.
Pancakes three and four were peanut butter pancakes.
She watched me devour them.
I was gobbling my food so fast, it looked like I was in a pie eating contest for a new car.
Grandma, you spoil me! I said.
She was smirking and happy and so was I.
This was the best day of my life so far, eating with my grandma,
hearing her stories.
I cannot look at a warm stack of pancakes without thinking of my grandma.
And how thrilled she was that she had gotten me to eat.
I had been worrying my mother, with my starvation diet at the time.
I was twelve, and thought I was “fat” when I was actually merely healthy.
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