Saturday, November 15, 2014

Thank you Lord for grandma's and for memories of our youth

When I was very young, I was occasionally blessed to spend time with my great grandmother at her home on Reservoir Hill.  My favorite room was the kitchen.  Even now, I can close my eyes and picture it in every detail; just as it looked those long years ago. I can see the old wood range in the corner of the cozy kitchen, and hear the clanking of its lids as great Grandma painstakingly brought the range to life. I remember how the nickel handles and black cast iron stovetop shone in the flickering light of the coal oil lamp as she polished them with a wax covered bread wrapper. I smell the sulfur and see the flash and flutter of the wooden match as she lit the crumpled newspaper, the sound of the dampers being opened, and the crackling of the fire as Grandma carefully fed kindling to the growing flame. I remember peeking in through the open dampers at the glowing embers on the grate, watching their light dancing on the wall, and gazing up at the warming oven in expectation of the golden brown treasures that would soon be steaming inside. And my mouth literally waters at the memory of aromas as Grandma began to cook; the sizzling of the bacon, the fragrance of frying eggs, and the enticing aroma of coffee in the graniteware pot. Thank you Lord for grandmas and for memories of our youth, and the joy it brings to share them with our friends.  SC

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