Breakfast At Grandma's
by
Mary -BrytEyz- Ball
(Age: 38)
copyright 04-30-2002
Age Rating: 1 to 127
Picture Credits:
I listen to her hum as she slowly scurries around the kitchen preparing breakfast. Well, she's scurrying in HER mind anyway. She snaps her fingers as she remembers she almost forgot the butter. While she turns to get it, I enter the kitchen area and take a seat. She reaches for the pepper and I appreciatively examine the table. She's made the coffee, and the creamer sits patiently in the tiny pitcher waiting to be poured. It ripples with her every step as they vibrate thru the trailer. The silverware is carefully and neatly laid out to text book specifications. The eggs sit in the pan covered to keep warm, and the sausage is sizzling in the skillet next to the eggs. The banana's are laid neatly in the center, and I can't decide if she put them there for decoration or part of the picture perfect breakfast she was painting. Two glasses and a cup stood at attention plateside awaiting to be of service for holding juice, water, and or coffe this morning. I couldn't decide so I took all three.
The light sparkled on the tiny juice glass, or was that a tear in my? I'm not sure but it doesn't matter anyway. I look at her and I can see her beauty thru my blurred vision. I hope I grow up to be just like her! My eyes follow her awkwardly graceful movements around the kitchen. I usually don't allow people to wait on me like this. I feel so uncomfortable letting them do it. I much rather share in the work and then share in the rewards of a job well done. But somehow I felt this time I should let her. She seemed so happy to be doing it. She had a purpose. Some people go thru all this workfor show and merely to make it look good. I doubt that was her intention tho she would've succeeded if it were. I think in her case this was just another way of expressing her love for me. I believe that letting her wait on me was actually a way of my showing my love for her. I know it feels good to give, and I wanted her to feel good so I would let her prepare and serve me breakfast. I wanted her to be happy. She hummed a nondistict tune and slid the bread into the toaster oven.
She giggled to herself then said, "Your Uncle Dick got me started on English Muffins you know." So, Uncle Dick likes English Muffins. You learn something new every day. And along with all the other imperative information like this that I can suck from her, I file it away in my memory. "I like them both. This is honey wheat if you would like that." I assumed she was talking about toast as she was taking it out of the oven now and preparing the muffin for it's heated moment. I said I liked them both, but I think she heard something more like she had to eat them both because she asked, "Don't you like toast or muffins?" I assured her I did, and that I'd love some muffins this morning. She looked a bit confused but put the muffins in anyway and shrugged.
I keep trying to talk slowly and clearly so she doesn't have to ask me to repeat myself or worse yet, NOT ask and pretend that she understood me. She does that alot. I can tell by the expression on her face as her mind tries desperately to unscramble the information she did receive into something a bit easier to understand. She's not slow by any means, I think she just has a problem hearing. She's quite proud and stubborn so I don't expect she'll be asking me to repeat too many things. I want instead to get it right in her mind the first time since there often won't be a second time to say it.
I have eaten at five star hotels and restaraunts that place more silverware at your plate for one meal than I have in my entire silverware drawer. I have dined at establishments that the average wait is over two hours and places where the steaks can be cut by a butter knife. Still, I doubt I've ever had a more delightful breakfast. It must taste better when it's prepared with love and served with genuine happiness.
I tried to clean up, but she insisted she had all day to do it. I wouldn't want her to be bored. I put a few things away more to ease my conscience than to help her. I know on Tuesdays she doesn't have Bingo, Bridge, or Shuffleboard. It's really a bigger help to leave the dishes for her. So, as hard as it was, I left the mess behind with all the love I had to give. As weird as it all may sound, I let her cook and clean for me while I sat and watched because I care so much for her. I think she knows so I didn't say it then, I just smiled and enjoyed her company. Grandma, I love you.
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I only have one grandmother left and she is not in good health. Cherish each moment you can with your grandparents for they won't always be around!This is a wonderful story and I am glad you wrote it for everyone to read! Thank You. And thank you for entering my contest, Anthony
This is a really great story! It really reminds me of my grandma, loving, caring, and a wonderful cook! Whenever it comes down to debating on who makes the best food, grandma wins, no contest.
This is such a touching story! :D I so wish I had a grandma like yours! :) (just a few typos, 1st paragraph, coffe has 2 'e's, and in the middle of the second, workfor -> work for. Other than that, it was perfect. LOL kinda like a home-cooked story :p)
Aw, Bryt-Eyz, I'm wiping away the tears! I just now read your comment on my poem, so I had to come and meet your Grandma!
You've described the setting -- and her -- so lovingly. You include those little details that make a story feel alive...and personal.
Nicely done!
Lary
Welcome !
