Been gone from FMF for a little bit,  call it writer’s block, or blogger’s block, or whatever, anniehow…I’m here now, so here goes.  Linking up with Kate Motaung for Five Minute Friday.  If you would like to join in or learn more about it, click on the icon to the left.  Write for 5 minutes, here we go.

TODAY’S PROMPT: VISIT

GO…

When I was a senior in high school, we moved from the home that I grew up in to the home that my mom grew up in, and was owned by my Grandma (which we called Grammy when we were little, and Gram as we got older).  She lived in an apartment on the front of the property, so I was able to visit her often.  A lot of times I just needed to run over there to take her something, or I would go over there for sugar or eggs if we were out, while I was in the middle of baking something.  Being that she lived just across the yard, in the summer, I never put on shoes, and she always made a comment about me being barefoot.  Every time I would stop over there, she would say, would you like to stay for coffee?  This was her thing.  I probably began drinking coffee at Grammy’s house at the age of 7.  If I was able to stay for coffee, she then began bringing out coffee cakes, cookies, and candy, and we would sit and snack.

She was a very strong woman; she worked most of her life being widowed when my mom was a senior in high school.  She owned a gift shop at one time, cleaned at a hotel, and worked at the local hardware store.  As I got older and had kids of my own, we then referred to her as Busia (which means great-grandmother in Polish).  When I would visit her, her normal greeting would be “sit down and make yourself homely.”  She would be sitting in her favorite chair, with all the necessities within her reach…her rotary dial phone, the remote to the TV and her Rosary.  We would chit-chat briefly, and then she would bring out the coffee and snacks.  On one of my visits, she told me a story about how she worked as a maid at the hotel, and the girl she worked with was stealing from the guests and tried to blame it on her, and when she found out how mad that made her.  I never really thought about what she was like when she was younger, but I did recognize that fiery spirit as she told the story.  She also told me about when she was engaged to her second husband (I was about 3 at the time), how he had said he didn’t want her to work, because “no woman of mine is going to work.”  She just smiled and laughed a little at the memory and half rolled her eyes…there weren’t many people who told her what to do :).  I only remember him a little bit,  the marriage was short, due to an illness, she lost her second husband as well.

Even though she worked hard, and was alone most of her life, the last years of her life she was able to spend in the comfort of her home, and visit with all her family members (4 kids, 12 grandkids 20 great-grandkids and 1 great-great-grandkid).  I was glad that I was able to take the time to share a cup of coffee with her on several occasions, to hear these stories…and just visit.

STOP…PENCILS DOWN