Thursday, March 3, 2011

Strawberry Milk

As a child, I enjoyed spending time with my grandmother.
She would sit and play cards with me for HOURS.

I still remember the expression on her face
every time that she picked the Old Maid from my hands.
Oh, how I would laugh! 

My grandmother and I both liked to draw.
We would set up the tv trays in the living room,
     using them as easels to hold up our sketch pads.

I remember imagining that we were sitting outside, somewhere in Paris.

I remember thinking that all adults must be good at drawing.

She was especially good at drawing trees and flowers.  
I liked to draw animals.
Especially, horses, dogs, and for some reason, barn owls. 

My grandmother did not own a car, and never had a driver's license.
When she lived in her house in Arlington,  Virginia,
     we would sometimes take the bus or the taxi cab to run errands.
I loved doing this with my grandmother.  
Mostly, the trips involved going to the bank, and going shopping.  
It didn't really matter where we went.
To me, it felt like such an adventure.

To this day, whenever I take the bus or a taxi cab, it feels that way.       

My grandmother loved to cook.
Everything she cooked was delicious.
I remember the sound of the "pop, pop!" in the frying pan,
     as she stood in her apron, at the stove -
filling the house with the smells of "yumminess".

My grandmother liked strawberries.
I liked strawberries, too.
Using a small knife, she would cut them up into bit-sized pieces,
     carefully letting them drop into two bowls - one for me, and one for her.  
She would pour milk over the top, creating a small stream around the bottom.  
Then, using a tiny spoon, she would sprinkle the berries with sugar.  

Together, we would eat our "snow-capped" mountain of strawberries.

When every last bite was gone,
     there would always be a surprise left at the bottom of the bowl.

Painted pink, from the berries, and sweetened with sugar.......................

     "Strawberry milk!"  I would say. 

And, picking up my bowl, with my two, child-sized hands,
     I would tip it into my mouth, and slurp up



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