Living in Texas one of the first things you notice are the names they give family members here. I'm sure you've heard at least one of them Bubba, Nanna, Pawpaw, Grannie, Poppie. The list goes on. In our family it's always been grandma or grandpa, followed by whatever their last name was. I'm not sure how I will handle the name my grandchildren will give me but I think it will be hard for me to be called Grandma Neves. Or maybe when they do call me grandma the little darlings will just melt my heart. Hopefully by then I won't care what they call me as long as they call me something nice.
But Grandma McDonald it was and will be forever.
When I asked my girls some of their favorite memories of visiting Grandma and Grandpa McDonald they had 2 favorites and especially I share one of those memories with them as well. The morning after we would arrive in Mont. we would wake up to the smell of freshly cooked bacon. There were either eggs or pancakes or both to go along with that but bacon reminds the girls of Grandma. The other one was the mini bikes. Hours upon hours of mini bike riding with their cousins up and down the lane. I remember the male bonding going on in the garage as the men would fix the mini bikes.
For me smell is the thing that draws me home to Mont. memories. The smell of freshly caught trout cooking on a cast iron skillet. That stinky stuff Grandma used to put on every evening after her bath. I'm not even sure what it was called, maybe witch hazel. The smell of grease on grandpa after he had been in the old barn at the old ranch fixing a tractor. The smell of water running down a ditch after Grandma had put in a new dam. The smell of hay being baled while sitting on the tractor fender with Grandma. The smell of petunias and coffee grounds. Grandma would ask me to take the coffee grounds to the petunia bed and spread them around the flowers. The prettiest petunias you'd ever see. The smell of wet dirt falling off a carrot from the garden. And bacon. Thick juicy chewy bacon. The kind you have to go to the butcher for now with the rind. Whether it was for breakfast, lunch or dinner the house smelled really good when there was bacon cooking. So Grandma thanks for the memories and especially, Thanks for the bacon.
We love and miss you.
3 comments:
That smell of grandma was rose water and if you got it in a cut it hurt...BAD!!
The smell I'm talking about would clear your sinuses. Mom or Beth would know what it was.
I loved the smell of a pot roast cooking in the oven. No matter how hard I try to duplicate that dinner it just never tastes like Grandmas.
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