Thanks to BeetleyPete for inspiring this feature with a similar one of his own, in which he wrote about his life, using words starting with consecutive letters of the alphabet. He posted this series on his blog last December. My letter this week is G.
I have many fond memories of my grandparents. But one stands out in my mind, and I wrote a poem about it.
In the summer of 1971, Dad and I drove from Tucson, Arizona, to Sheridan, Wyoming, to visit my paternal grandmother. My paternal grandfather had recently passed, and Grandma needed someone to help with the family’s coin-operated machine business for a while. My family moved to Sheridan in 1973, so Dad could run the business full-time, and I’ve lived here ever since, but I digress.
On our trip, we stopped in Denver, Colorado, where I spent time with my maternal grandparents while Dad went ahead to Sheridan. Grammy and Granddad Hinkley loved to play cribbage every morning after breakfast, as you’ll figure out when you read the following poem, published on a blog called Recovering the Self in June of 2021. You can click on the title to hear me read it.
by Abbie Johnson Taylor
“Nine in a crib, oh boy,”
Grammy says, gazing at her hand.
“You wouldn’t know a crib from a rattlesnake,” Granddad quips.
“Now sir, I’ve raised three children.
I should know what a crib is.”
In the summer morning heat,
they sit at their kitchen table,
deal, shuffle, count, peg.
My ten-year-old brain doesn’t understand the game,
but, mesmerized, I watch, fascinated,
as they play, banter, play some more.
Years have passed
since those Colorado summer mornings.
Grammy and Granddad are both gone.
They smile down on my family and me
from their cribbage table in the sky.
How about you? Do you have fond memories of your grandparents? Please feel free to share them in the comment field below.
Photo Courtesy of Tess Anderson Photography
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New! Why Grandma Doesn’t Know Me
Copyright 2021 by Abbie Johnson Taylor.
Independently published with the help of DLD Books.
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Sixteen-year-old Natalie’s grandmother, suffering from dementia and confined to a wheelchair, lives in a nursing home and rarely recognizes Natalie. But one Halloween night, she tells her a shocking secret that only she and Natalie’s mother know. Natalie is the product of a one-night stand between her mother, who is a college English teacher, and another professor.
After some research, Natalie learns that people with dementia often have vivid memories of past events. Still not wanting to believe what her grandmother has told her, she finds her biological father online. The resemblance between them is undeniable. Not knowing what else to do, she shows his photo and website to her parents.
Natalie realizes she has some growing up to do. Scared and confused, she reaches out to her biological father, and they start corresponding.
Her younger sister, Sarah, senses their parents’ marital difficulties. At Thanksgiving, when she has an opportunity to see Santa Claus, she asks him to bring them together again. Can the jolly old elf grant her request?
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