Apple

I’ve been thinking a lot about my mother this week. She died in 1991 at the age of fifty-seven, but before she left us she was a wonderful grandmother to my daughters. My oldest daughter Courtney, the oldest grandchild, had the pleasure of knowing her the best. Courtney visited me these past two weeks with her daughter, the first and so far the only grandchild. We reminisced about my mother, about how much she loved Courtney and about how much Courtney loved her.

Courtney recalled making a childhood announcement that when she grew up she wanted to marry MaMaw. No amount of reasoning could dissuade her from this idea. It wasn’t until my mother asked, “But who would fix PaPaw’s dinner?” that Courtney finally realized she could not marry the person she loved most in the world. Fortunately, she later found someone she loved as much.

I reminded Courtney of an incident that occurred at the airport when she was about five years old. As we boarded the plane for home after visiting my parents Courtney was bereft about leaving. She sobbed and wailed in a most melodramatic fashion during our goodbyes and the entire flight. I’m sure the other airline passengers were happy when we were no longer sharing cabin space. I was excruciatingly embarrassed, but now I find myself secretly hoping that my granddaughter will have similar feelings upon leaving me one day.

The two weeks I spent with my grandbaby were priceless. At seven months old I doubt she remembers me from previous visits so we had to go through the getting to know each other process again. On the second day, when she gave me an ear to ear grin as I got her out of her crib, my heart filled so that I truly did feel my chest expand. We got along just fine, she and I, while her mother sequestered herself to study for the New York bar exam. Every day I learned a little more about this precious child. She laughs at the pat-a-cake song (or my singing), she doesn’t like to nap unless we are strolling through my neighborhood, and she enjoys a frequent change of scenery. I will see her again in September and I can’t wait to discover more about her.

The love between a grandmother and a granddaughter is a special thing. I had my Big Red and my daughters had their MaMaw. I have learned from the best. My grandmother name is Apple (because I am a Granny Smith); I hope I’m a good one.