“I want my Grammy!!”
This is Skye’s new favorite phrase for every time she gets in trouble—cue my inner eye roll. My response is always, you and me both my love.
Although I know every child wants to run away to grandma’s when mom or dad get a little strict, I too wish that my mom lived closer and we could see her more often.
Come the end of this school year, my mom will have taught her last group of students and will be retiring from her 30-year career. She’s planning to then move here to Missoula, and I’m not sure who’s more excited—Skye or me. The next year can’t go fast enough for either of us.
Sometimes, a girl just needs her grandma. And her mom.
For the first eight years of my life, we lived in a double wide trailer on our ranch, and my grandma lived in another trailer just about fifty feet away. Running away to grandma’s house was a real possibility thanks to her close proximity, and it happened often.
She had a house in Tucson and would migrate south for the winters; but every spring I knew she’d be back, along with the first flowers in bloom.
To me, grandma’s house meant the smell of fresh cooked waffles and morning cartoons. It meant being told the best stories, whether from a book or her imagination. There was always hot cocoa or tea to be had, no matter the temperature outside.
Her house was a place of escape for all her grandkids, a world filled with unconditional love and acceptance. Her arms could bestow an all-encompassing feeling of calm on even the most dramatic of little girls, aka me. When our parents got divorced, my brothers and I ran to grandma for comfort—she was the only person capable of giving us any.
During my senior year of high school, my mom and I moved in with my grandma, meaning that she got to witness all of the behind the scenes drama of my teenage angst— sometimes lashing out as disrespect even to her—yet she continued to love me just the same.
She was one of the most important constants in my life, teaching me more than I ever took the time to realize or appreciate when I had her here to thank.
Her recent passing has shattered me in ways I never expected. She was 92 and her health had been failing for years—we all thought we were ready, as prepared as we could be for her to go. But when the time came, we weren’t ready. I definitely wasn’t ready; there was so much more that I wanted to ask her.
Losing my grandma has made my mom moving to the same town as Skye and I mean just that much more to me. I want Skye to get to have the kind of time I had with my grandmother as a kid, to be shown on a daily basis how grandma’s love knows no bounds.
I’ll admit I also have my own selfish reasons for wanting to live in the same zip code as my mom again: I’ll proudly admit that I’m a die hard mama’s girl, and she will always be my best friend. When I became a mom myself, our bond grew even stronger.
There were many times, especially in my first couple years as a new mom, that all I wanted was my own mommy to come take care of me and everything else. I wanted her closer to me, living a couple of blocks away instead of a couple hundred miles.
Skye is a grandma’s girl just like I was, and all I’ve wanted is for her to have her grandma as readily available as I always had mine.
Skye and I will both be counting down the days until Grammy can be here for good. Except for her own plans to migrate south for the Montana winter months, she’ll undoubtedly be at Skye’s beck and call the rest of the year.
In a way, it’s the completion of a beautiful circle; when the spring sun starts to thaw out the world each year, Skye will wait in anticipation for her days to be once again filled with her grandma’s love and attention, just as I once did.
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This month's theme GENERATIONS is brought to you by Hylands Homeopathy. Trust a company who has been around over 100 years to know a thing or two about generations of moms.
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