Grandma Liz

“Grandma Liz, Grandma Liz! Tell us a story from when you were younger!’ Squealed one of the five children sitting in front of me on the floor.
‘Well, how about I tell you all of when I was younger,’ I said. I sighed remembering my past, taking what little good there was, and trying to exaggerate as much as possible, and to still have it seem real, less fairytale like. They are young, but I still think they would know the difference.
The children watched me, waiting, almost exploding with curiosity. It was hard for me to find the words. I didn’t know how to start.
‘When I was a little older than you all…’ I started, still trying to figure out what to say next. ‘ I would always go to my grandparents house during the summer. My family would leave early in the morning, just so we could get there at a decent hour. Grandma and Grandpa lived a good four hours away. In Pennsylvania to be exact.’ Again, I paused. The rides there were hellish. The fighting never ceased. Always about the same thing.
‘On the way there, my brothers and I would sleep, while mother and father took turns driving. When we would finally get there, we would all be so excited. We would scramble out of the car and scatter into different directions. I would always hug grandma and grandpa first, then run off to see what things had changed since I had last been there. But my favorite thing to do was help grandpa shovel hay into the hay wagon. Since I was a tiny thing, and worked slowly, the horse had always moved up a few paces, by the time I got the hay fork loaded up, and in the air. Not even half of the hay would end up on the wagon. Grandpa didn’t mind though. Never complaining, he would always wait until I occupied my self with something else before he would clean up the mess. I feel bad looking back on it now. Such a mess I left. Ha. Oh how I miss him. Such a kind man. Much like your father. Hard working, loved his family, and would do anything for them. He was a small man who wore over-alls, and work shirts, nothing other than that. His eyes were the clearest of blue, and his hair was in curled locks of grey.’ This much was true. I haven’t thought much about my grandparents until now.
‘And grandma, such a quiet woman. A perfectionist. Always had on a clean apron, with her hair tied back in a small bun. Not once did I go over there, and their house was dirty. Not once. Always spotless.’
One of the smaller girls interrupted, and asked ‘What else would you do for fun?’.
‘Hush child, I’m getting there. Grandpa would always ask us to call the animals in. The most frightening were the chickens. If we went anywhere near them, they would get flying, and we would start running and hollerin. After one fix of that, we weren’t allowed to go near the chickens. We scared them too much! Ha! I think they scared us more than we scared ‘em! The cows were scary too. A whole lot bigger than us. But the most fun was calling in the pigs. We would go….SUI’EE, SUI’EE!! And they would come running, and snorting.’ I stopped, expecting what was to happen next.
The children burst with laughter, imitating the sounds. I smiled; children’s laughter was beautiful.
After everything quieted down, I continued ‘This would get us so rowdy. We’d go running inside, not stopping to take off our shoes. No more than three-feet into the house, Grandma would tell us to go outside and fetch some vegetables from her garden. What a way to calm us down. We would be occupied for hours. Playing in the dirt, and messing with the bugs. Before we knew it, we would be called back inside to get washed up for supper. We would hurriedly run inside, clean up, then sit at the table waiting to pray. At random Grandma would pick someone to start the prayer, and the rest would take turns, until the prayer was finished. Both Grandma and Grandpa were very religious. Lived by the bible.’ I wasn’t lying completely. They were religious. Very much so, but they weren’t so kind.
‘The best part of the day would be the supper. Everything was made from scratch. My favorite food was the roasted chicken. After supper was done, we would say another prayer, then be excused from the table. Surprisingly Grandpa was the one who washed the dishes. While he was doing that, we all gathered in the living room, around the piano, while Grandma played. It was amazing; she played so well. I wish I had been taught. But I couldn’t play an instrument if my life depended on it. What else was amazing is how the rest of the relatives that lived near by all showed up around the time Grandpa was done. They would all be outside, on the wrap around porch, chatting it up. Always perfect timing. While the adults talked, the children played. But all fun soon comes to an end. At that time, though it didn’t seem that it would ever end, but it eventually did. Everyone would say their goodbyes and we would head home, wishing it could last forever.’ I stopped. Would my lying change the past? No, but if I lied, the wounds wouldn’t resurface, they would stay buried, at least for the time being. To be honest, when it was all said and done, I enjoyed the silence of the car ride home the most.