When I woke up this morning I was thinking about my grandmother. Well, not so much about her as about what her dreams and aspirations may have been. I say that because I really have no idea. As a small child I spent a good deal of time at her house when my own mother went to visit her mom. Funny how when you are a kid you sometimes forget that connection. I mean you know it, but forget it. Anyway, grandma's house was a great place to be, lots to do and a little mysterious. She had that big old cook stove in the corner with the wood box right next to it. Coal sat in the bucket by that wood box as well. Everything revolved around that kitchen. She had a dining room with an old table covered in oil cloth. Against the far wall was a tall cabinet with a tiny black and white television on it, rarely did I see that turned on. Grandma had raised ten children in this home and I knew a few of them, the majority however were just names to me, my mom's brothers and sisters. And somehow that didn't equate to be my Aunts' and Uncle's. At least in the mind of a child it didn't. And grandma, grandma washed and ironed other peoples clothes to earn a living. Grandpa had passed before I was even born and was rarely mentioned. No, it was just grandma that lived in that house now, alone with work and her memories.
I woke up thinking about that and wondering what it is that she would have liked to be doing. Maybe that is what she wanted to do? I just don't know. I suspect she wasn't really any different from any of us there must have been other things besides having babies, keeping house and doing laundry. I honestly can't remember her ever saying or talking about doing anything else. Did she like to draw, paint, sew, knit, or write poetry? What were her interests? She had gone to culinary school and was a pastry chef. But that was before she was married. Did she choose that profession because she enjoyed that? I wonder. Back in her day young ladies didn't get a whole lot of choice about things. She was sent to America, Sweden was her home, to care for a sick aunt. She did that for a number of years. After her aunt passed she went to that school, or was sent, I don't know which. None of that matters though, the past is the past.
I never thought to ask her anything about any of that when I was a kid. Grandma was always busy, always working, and you don't disturb people working. She would give me chores to do, " helping " is what she called it. The truth is it was just stuff to keep me busy. A favorite was nailing down that strip of metal covering the seam in that linoleum floor in the kitchen. A small tack hammer and a box of small nails, entertained for a good hour or so. When I was older, chopping wood or making kindling was a fun thing to do. Maybe Grandma didn't want to talk about any of that, maybe she just blocked her dreams out. I don't know why but I feel a sense of sadness when I think about that. I wish I knew. Now that I'm 66 I do understand that grandparents have dreams too. Imagine that, old people having dreams.
As a teen I didn't have much time for Grandma. Oh I would stop some days after school to say hello. Especially days when I had heard she had baked some Swedish pastries. I never spent any time just sitting and talking with her though. Grandma, nana as I called her, was always there. She didn't drive, she rarely left her house. I don't know of any friends she may have had, no neighbors visiting, nothing like that. Aunt Edna got her groceries and other supplies for her. I never heard of her going to a doctor, for anything. She fell at home one day and broke her hip. Then she fell off a gurney at the hospital and had a head injury. She spent her last years in a nursing home, not remembering most of her adult life from what I've been told. I never went to see her there, too young. Of course that was back in the day when parents didn't take their children to such places not wishing to expose us to that. I remember when you had to be 16 to visit someone in the hospital, it was no place for children. Nana passed and I didn't attend the funeral. Her memory remains with me, a warm kitchen, a gentle and kind old lady with a bun and an apron. But she must have had dreams, I wonder what they may have been.
I woke up thinking about that and wondering what it is that she would have liked to be doing. Maybe that is what she wanted to do? I just don't know. I suspect she wasn't really any different from any of us there must have been other things besides having babies, keeping house and doing laundry. I honestly can't remember her ever saying or talking about doing anything else. Did she like to draw, paint, sew, knit, or write poetry? What were her interests? She had gone to culinary school and was a pastry chef. But that was before she was married. Did she choose that profession because she enjoyed that? I wonder. Back in her day young ladies didn't get a whole lot of choice about things. She was sent to America, Sweden was her home, to care for a sick aunt. She did that for a number of years. After her aunt passed she went to that school, or was sent, I don't know which. None of that matters though, the past is the past.
I never thought to ask her anything about any of that when I was a kid. Grandma was always busy, always working, and you don't disturb people working. She would give me chores to do, " helping " is what she called it. The truth is it was just stuff to keep me busy. A favorite was nailing down that strip of metal covering the seam in that linoleum floor in the kitchen. A small tack hammer and a box of small nails, entertained for a good hour or so. When I was older, chopping wood or making kindling was a fun thing to do. Maybe Grandma didn't want to talk about any of that, maybe she just blocked her dreams out. I don't know why but I feel a sense of sadness when I think about that. I wish I knew. Now that I'm 66 I do understand that grandparents have dreams too. Imagine that, old people having dreams.
As a teen I didn't have much time for Grandma. Oh I would stop some days after school to say hello. Especially days when I had heard she had baked some Swedish pastries. I never spent any time just sitting and talking with her though. Grandma, nana as I called her, was always there. She didn't drive, she rarely left her house. I don't know of any friends she may have had, no neighbors visiting, nothing like that. Aunt Edna got her groceries and other supplies for her. I never heard of her going to a doctor, for anything. She fell at home one day and broke her hip. Then she fell off a gurney at the hospital and had a head injury. She spent her last years in a nursing home, not remembering most of her adult life from what I've been told. I never went to see her there, too young. Of course that was back in the day when parents didn't take their children to such places not wishing to expose us to that. I remember when you had to be 16 to visit someone in the hospital, it was no place for children. Nana passed and I didn't attend the funeral. Her memory remains with me, a warm kitchen, a gentle and kind old lady with a bun and an apron. But she must have had dreams, I wonder what they may have been.
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