i remember snapping long green beans in half
they grew in their own garden
i remember cautiously using the sewing machine
scared i would get my hand underneath the needle
barely pressing my foot on the peddle
we made pillows and stuffed dogs
i still have the cross eyed dog
i remember big jars filled with sea shells
i would dump them out and sort them
by size and color and type of shell
i remember cucumbers
also grown in the garden
sliced and put in containers of water, vinegar, onions, salt and pepper
i remember homemade play dough.
i would eat it
it was very salty
i remember the best no bake cookies ever
i remember sitting on her lap
as she read me Snow White
she would lick her finger before slowly turning each page
the book is on my altar now
she used to say that i was always such an artist
but i don't remember it
she had the magic super nintendo touch
when a game messed up, it only worked when she blew into the cartridge
like magic
she closed her eyes when she laughed
i never saw her angry
i remember sleeping over, on the couch
and waking up to the sounds of her shuffling about
making coffee, starting breakfast, talking quietly with grandpa
i would lay there for awhile, awake, letting the senses sink in
the smells of homey foods, of old fabrics and old books
the sound of comfort
the shuffles of quietly starting a new day
the sounds of morning
