When I was younger & would hear the word Grandma, I would think of my own Nana with her nicely styled silvery hair, a cute rocking chair on her front porch & the stories she had to tell of her own experiences.
Ok, my Nana didn’t have a cute rocking chair on her front porch, but she sure was a lot of fun & she did have some pretty great stories to tell.
I used to stop by her house for breakfast every morning before school. She loved to take me clothes shopping. My Nana had the cutest accent, after all she was from New Zealand. I loved the smell of her sheets. I loved eating the pudding filled angel food cake she would make for my birthday, because she knows I loved it. And I loved watching Snoopy with her. If I wasn’t at her house watching it, I would hurry to the phone to let her know it was on.
Now when I hear Grandma, I think about this scrumptious little face. I think about how proud I am of my oldest daughter Brooke for raising such a sweet little boy on her own. I think about that tiny smiling face splashing around in our small blow up pool. I think about him running around in my backyard. I think about how sweet it is to see him looking at his mommy with adoring eyes. I think about how I’ve never seen a one year old consume so much food. giggle.
And I think about how lucky I am to be