Favorite Childhood Memory

Someone asked me a long time ago what was my favorite childhood memory. Immediately I thought of my grandparents. They had been gone for quite sometime but that particular question gave me such a warm and loving feeling that I felt like I had a brief visit with them.

My grandparents would travel from North Carolina to Arkansas where I grew up every fall. My grade school was at the end of my street so I generally walked to school everyday. The day of their arrival I would think nothing of school work. All I could think about was when that final bell would ring that my day was over and my grandparents would be home. I couldn't wait. I would walk as fast as I could, keeping my eye out for my grandfather's big, white Ford LTD parked on the side of the street. After passing a few houses I could see his car sticking out of the street as if there wasn't any other cars around the neighborhood. I would try with all my might to run the rest of the way home...I just couldn't wait. I would be so winded by the time I reached the front door, but by some magical circumstance, my grandparents would be right there in the front room with open arms and kisses.

My grandmother was usually the first to get me. She was about as tall as I am now, 5'5, always wearing something pink,(her favorite color) with lipstick to match leaving a smudge of her lipstick on my lips and cheek. My grandfather was rather tall, like 6'1 or so it seemed, and had the best bear hugs. He had these long wonderful arms that just engulfed you. I swear he would hug me so hard that it was hard to breathe. I didn't care about breathing for those few seconds. All I wanted was my hug from my grandpa. I had waited all day for this momment. It was the best part of my day.

My grandparents always brought canned goods from their garden. The trunk would be packed full of stuff. Green beans, peaches, apples, veggies for stew, apple butter, (yum), as well as fresh apples wrapped in newspaper and sometimes corn on the cob. My grandparents weren't rich people. They were hard, working people who lived in a small mountain town. I never thought of them as being 'poor country folk' as they would be viewed as such today. No, they were richer than anyone I know. My grandparents had some sort of karmic vibe going for them that you just oozed of love and happiness. I always felt like I was at home when I was around them. I miss them terribly. I miss that comfort of being around them and feeling like I was 'home'. Most of all, I miss those big bear hugs and kisses sealed with pink lipstick. elizinashe