"Grandma." "Grandma." "Grandma."

photo courtesy cunningba on flickr

There was a reason that I happened to think of this little story just now . . . I have all kinds of correspondence pending, none has produced a response. It's timely, and it matters. I sometimes feel like the little girl trying to tell Grandma that the horses are out. Do you ever feel like that?

When I was pretty little, maybe {likely} four years old . . . my Mother and my Grandmother were enjoying a nice little visit at Grandma's house. I can picture it as if it were yesterday. The sofa still sits where it always was, although the house belongs to my Aunt now . . . Grandma has been gone for nearly 10 years . . . it's against the longest wall in the living room . . . Grandma sat on the end, my Mom near the middle . . . they were deeply involved in a conversation . . . I was playing outside.

{Imagine the days when a little girl could play alone outside near the horse pasture, under the fig trees. . . . sigh . . .} anyway, as I played, I noticed that the gate to the pasture stood open and my Grandpa's horses were grazing on the grass in the yard! Thinking this might be important, I toddled myself right in to the house, stood at Grandma's elbow and began my song . . . "Grandma? . . . Grandma? . . . Grandma? . . ." {This went on for some time, as I recall.} I think maybe I annoyed her ;) because eventually, after several choruses of this . . . she turned to me, and you know that exasperated voice? Not loud enough to be a shout, but firm enough that I knew I was in trouble? "WHAT, Debbi?!" My shy little four year old self standing there in my little plaid playdress barely managed an answer . . . "Are the horses supposed to be outside the fence?"
Grandma, "YES, Debbi!"
Oh. Okay. Adults are so odd. Off I skipped, back to play in the garden of my childhood.


Some time later, half an hour, maybe a whole one, found me giving effort to climbing my Grandpa's orange tree {I'll bet Grandpa would have listened if he had been home.}. A young man in an open topped Jeep skidded to a stop, right there, under that orange tree, and hit the ground running! Spotting me as he runs, he yells, "Is your Grandpa home?!"
Me: "No."
Him: "Is your Grandma?!"
Me: "Yes."
Him: "I've got to talk to her! Their horses are all over downtown!"
Me: "Oh, she knows. She says it's okay."


He looks at me like I'm crazy, and proceeds to run into my Grandparents' house, anyway. :)
You can imagine the confusion and excitement that broke loose then! Every available man in our tiny rural town hopped their own horses and headed downtown to wrangle my Grandpa's horses. It took quite a bit of the afternoon {as I recall}.


Grandma should have listened to me. :)