Over the last year or so, David and I have each lost a parent, and we now have one living parent between us. All of a sudden we find ourselves to be the “elder” generation – the house where people come to celebrate holidays. No little children to worry ourselves with.
I still cook with some of my grandmother’s pots. My mother’s mother. My Memmaw. One big green pot I can remember filled with peeled potatoes. One smaller green pot I remember full of beans. She was not a fancy cook, but she was a good cook, a former school cafeteria worker in West Virginia. I have spent so many happy hours with my grandmother, my mother, and my extended family, including traveling to Clifton Forge every year for Thanksgiving at my Aunt JoAnne’s, the best cook/baker in the family. Lucky are we that have such wonderful memories of food and fun and holidays and family.
The weight of becoming the “elder” generation is on me now. My wish is to recreate a joyful holiday atmosphere for the younger generations of my family. — Robyn
Granny Guide My Hands
(Copyrighted Kelly Dickinson)
The Season’s come
It’s turkey time….
The sharing of the meal.
The family will be gathered soon
To feast at this big deal.
For now I cook our favorite foods
That each year we all share,
The recipes past down to me
With gentle loving care .
A pinch of this , a dash of that
I hear her say, ‘That’s grand!”
The love she shared with all of us ,
Was stirred in every pot!
Those holidays of yesteryear ….
Oh I miss them so!
All bundled up and on our way
To Granny’s house we’d go!
Now she’s gone , it’s not the same….
Although I try my best,
To cook the feast that she once did
With all her zeal and zest!
A pinch of this , a dash of that….
I can hear her say ,”That’s grand!’
Praying as I stir the pot…..
“Granny , guide my hands!!”