Granny Hannah

The crisp autumn leaves crunched beneath my feet as I made my way up the long narrow driveway. Up ahead blue-grey smoke from the old pot-bellied stove swirled from the red brick chimney stack. A musty smell of wood smoke lingered heavily in the air. All around the ground resembled a magnificent carpet of bright reds, golden yellows and warm oranges. A gentle breeze sent a new batch of leaves cascading down to join the sea of color. Pulling my collar up against the biting cold of November, I hurried on.
Approaching the house, I was overcome by a sense of sadness as I saw how the years of alternating blistering heat and extreme cold had taken its toll. The house was showing its age, paint was beginning to peel and one of the bedroom shutters hung precariously by one lone screw holding it in place.
Granny Hannah welcomed me as always with open arms. The soft silky warmth of her skin felt luxurious on my cold cheeks. The apron she wore over her Sunday best dress was stained and rumpled where she had obviously used it to wipe her hands while baking. She rushed me in out of the cold and into the warmth of her home.

The living room was as hodge-podge as ever. Brightly colored throw rugs decorated the hardwood floor. There was no way of knowing if they had been methodically placed or just thrown down any old way. A big green overstuffed chair with threadbare arms and a slight lean to the right monopolized the room. Closing my eyes I could picture big Bill as we called him sitting there. His hair slightly disarrayed, suspenders stretched tightly over his rounded beer belly and last but not least the ever present pipe clenched between his teeth. Though Big Bill had died several months ago the stale smell of tobacco lingered on.

Entering the kitchen I was welcomed by the warmth of the pot-bellied stove. A collection of teacups and saucers decoratively displayed in a large china hutch brightened the otherwise dreary room. Under the large picture window stood a huge ceramic sink, cracks and stains giving away its age. As I looked at it, I couldn't help but remember with warm recollection the times I had stood there drying the dishes and spilling my heart to my much loved and trusted Granny. Next to the stove a cardboard box housed the latest batch of kittens to be born. Contentedly they nursed away, their little paws gently kneading the Momma cats chest as droplets of milk smudged their adorable little faces. Looking around, my heart filled with fond memories of Granny Hannah and me making afternoon tea and cookies for the rest of the family.

Continuing my journey I went into Granny Hannah's bedroom. This had always been my favorite room in the whole house. An enormous mahogany four poster bed stood squarely against the back wall. The patchwork quilt lying across the bottom of the bed flaunted most every color you could imagine. A pair of wire rimmed reading glasses lay lens down on the nightstand. Next to them an open bible, the pages yellowed and wrinkled from age and much use. A free standing wardrobe with an etched mirrored front stood elegantly in the corner. The door slightly ajar I could see several of Big Bills sweaters still hanging up as if waiting for him to return and claim them. For a moment I could almost feel his presence.

As I made my way back to the kitchen, I thought of all the good things in my life, and reminded myself to treasure the people like Granny Hannah and Big Bill who always made it a priority in their lives to make me feel safe, loved and secure.

Opening the kitchen door I saw Granny Hannah cooing over the kittens in that wonderful way of hers, I smiled and crossed the gap between us. Straightening up and smiling as I approached, she reached out and lovingly placed her wrinkled hands upon my face and gently kissed my forehead. "I've missed you" she said, in that beautiful soft voice of hers. I smiled and said, "I've missed you too" And without another word we fell into our old routine of making afternoon tea.
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