The day it began I never knew would be the end. I was only either eight or nine. Waking up at Granddaddy's and Nana house was the best, especially when it’s a day you're having a big family dinner. You're so excited your hearts starts to race and your feet starts to do a dance. Getting together with my family was like music to my ears. Laughing and reminiscing, and playing games, just having a good time.
Oh, how I wish I could still smell my granddaddy Old Spice smell coming out of the bathroom after he put on his after shave. Nana in the bedroom putting on stocking that she knew had a run in it, but I dare not tell her that she might smack my lips. You couldn’t tell her nothing. She was tall dark and chocolate “5 7” thick in thighs, had dark pretty curly hair and legs for days! Nothing like the smell of hot grits cooking on the stove, bacon sizzling in the pan. Flap jacks were shaped like different animal shapes in on pan and last but not least a glass of fresh glass of squeezed orange juice to wash it all down. My brother Carl was always besides myself was always the first to the table. My little sister Danielle would be last because my Granddaddy made her get dress before she came down stairs. Nana wanted us to eat and get out of her kitchen she was ready to start our family dinner. Breakfast dishes cleaned up and put away and how it’s time for the big dinner festive. Nana sitting in her favorite chair that look across from my handsome Granddaddy. Grandaddy had his favorite chair, and his favorite orange slices that use to sit in a glass jar on his table that was right next to him. I use to dust off my Nana nicknacks, and they had to be right. She would have me use a dust rag for the nicknacks and the black piano that we were never allowed to play on. Oh, but she made sure that the piano stayed shiny and black. I would use a dust mop for her floors and she wanted me to do the bathrooms. I didn’t mind because I knew she was making my favorite “ blueberry peach cobbler, and my liver pate. Now, Nana could bake her butt off. She measured all her ingredients so every bite taste like some more. I loved being able to help her cook even if it was only snapping green beans, or peeling potatoes for that good potato salad. I could smell those cakes baking in the oven and the pies sitting so pretty and patiently waiting for their turn to go in the oven next. Granddad had that aroma from the pot smelling so good. I knew he was making his famous stew beef. Nobody could throw it down in the kitchen like my Granddaddy not even my Nana. My Granddaddy had that southern style cooking. He also had garden with every vegetable you could name. Granddaddy would pick his veggies and line them up from smallest to largest cucumber and tomatoes. He did not play about his garden or his food. You knew when to be in the kitchen, and when not to be, but you definitely better not have been in there while he was cooking. My grandparents had these great big mirrors that I loved to sing and dance while looking in them. I had on my regular clothes with my red slippers that had a little wedge heels to them dancing all over the house like I was on Soul Train you couldn’t tell me anything. My brother and sister was looking at me as if to say, “ Girl if you don’t go sit down somewhere where do you think your at?” I was that little that stayed dancing and singing around the house, but my sibling was not feeling that oh well. Nana still in the kitchen rolling the dough making more pies. I think she made about eight to ten pies, but who’s was counting. The only thing that I kept counting was the time because I knew that this was going to be the best family dinner ever. As dinner was still preparing I decided to go outside a play with my friends until it was time to have our family gathering. Now where grandparents lived at their were two sets of twins that I enjoyed playing with. We always played double dutch, and freeze tag and many other games. I often think about my grandparents house and what it used to look like and wonderings how does look now. Are the steps still the same? Was there still a black screen door that I knew I was not allowed to let slam, or I would get my behind tore up! As I walk back in the house the sweet smell of sweet potato pie, blueberry peach pie, apple pie oh my! I could feel my stomach start to feel up from all the blueberry peach cobbler. Did I you tell how Nana could bake some cakes that a make your lips pop. Nan always made my favorite cake strawberry shortcake and nobody was allowed to have any before I do. I actually believe she would make everybody favorite dessert. From the children to the grandchildren we all had own deserts that we liked.
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Author Shani PierceI will luse this blog on letting people in on a little about me and my children. Archives
May 2017
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