Missing You

Green shag carpet, an emerald green that has lost it's shag, covers gorgeous hard wood floors, floors that I question whether or not they have ever been touched by a human foot. We used to pretend it was grass, and then when we had kids - they too would pretend!

A davenport, not a couch or a sofa, but a davenport. It was always strewn with an afghan or two, maybe another that was in the works. The davenport was a deep brown with a touch of gold and green, rough to the touch, it would leave marks on your face if you fell asleep on it. As uncomfortable as it was, it just felt perfect.

Wood paneling covered the walls, the living room, the hallway, the bedrooms...! At Christmas time, behind the davenport, yarn would hang from the molding and cards would be attached. The rest of the year the walls were covered in pictures, pictures of Moms, Dads, Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, friends, family, and love.

The recliner sat in the corner, worn in places from so much use. A radio next to that to hear foot ball games. The TV was across the room, showing yet another game, sometimes two TV's could be found there, depending on the game line-up for the day. Photo albums sat near by, again filled with pictures of love.

The home was always a bustle with sound. Sports playing on the radio or tv, card games in the dining room, great food cooking in the kitchen, and the sound of pool balls cracking eminated from the basement. Laughter would always abound, as would the warmth of pleasant conversation.

The feel of the home started from the moment you rang the doorbell. Westminster Chimes
would play and your arrival would be welcomed with joy and grace, be you a stranger or a dear friend. Many times you would be greeted with a "Come In!" hollered from the kitchen or welcomed by Grandma dressed in one of many aprons and a pair of house slippers. You would make your rounds giving hugs and kisses to all who are in the home, Grandpa's hug was the best, lifting you right off your feet. He would squeeze so tight you could feel the stuffing pour right out of you, yet secretly, you'd wish he would never let go.

When we were kids, we would play across the street, at the elementary school named for my Great Grandfather. We would play to our hearts content, until Grandma would blow her whistle alerting us that dinner was on the table.

Dinner...what a wonderful time. Rarely can I recall a time when meals did not consist of adding leaves to the table and scrounging the house for extra chairs. The organ bench made for great seating, allowing two cousins to dine together at the head of the table. Food was never scarce, plates overflowing unable to hold the contents of the offerings at the table. Guests would sit in eager anticipation while Grace was spoken, either by Grandma herself, or another family member willing to take on the task. There was always silence, followed by an "Amen" from all, and then the clanking of silverware, passing of dishes, and conversation would commence. Grandpa was the food pusher, always urging us to have one more bite, or one more serving, he had the belly to show for it but was so full of love in his offers.

I think of those moments often. The Grandparents are gone, as is the home, but the memories will forever be embedded in my mind. The sounds, tastes, and smells - they will forever remind me of happy times shared with the important people of my life. I wish that my son could share in those memories with me, that he had been old enough to remember what an amazing Great-Grandmother he had, and that my Grandfather could have held him in his arms. I feel the two of them with me, I know their presence is there, be it in a dream or as my guardian angels. Grandma and Grandpa - thinking of you today, I miss you and I love you.