There are certain childhood memories that seem to be seared into my memory like they just happened yesterday – family dance parties to the Glenn Miller Band, foot baths in the sink from my Dad, my Mom’s artistic creativity lent to my school projects, and birthdays with Grammy Joy.
Whenever Grammy was taking care of us, it felt like an adventure – we’d go swimming in Lake Michigan (in our clothes when we didn’t have our swimsuits with us), we’d play dress up with all of her and my Aunt’s gowns, furs and jewelry; and of course, we always had ice cream on our birthdays. And for some reason that is a memory that seems to be always sitting in the back of my mind.
On our birthdays Grammy made a point to make us feel so special. I remember her taking us to the mall to pick out a new pair of tights or a fancy little purse, cooking for us, and most importantly, we ate ice cream. Grammy would take us to the Dairy Queen down the street from her house and let us pick out whatever we wanted, and we would always eat it before we ever had dinner. (I think that we probably rarely made it to the traditional dinner portion of the night.)
Maybe this only happened a handful of times, but it happened enough to make an impression on me. And so on Saturday when the hubby and I reached a stalemate about what to have for dinner, I suddenly realized the one thing that I knew that we could both agree on, ice cream.
Although my Grammy is only with us in spirit now, it is the moments like this one when I feel her presence closer than ever. We didn’t have a birthday to celebrate, but ice cream for dinner was just what the doctor ordered and definitely Grammy approved.