We were supposed to be taking a nap in Grandma's back guest room. It was salmon pink, then. One window looked out where the swingset stood among the trees in the front yard. The other faced east, a patchwork of Bermuda grass stretching across the fallowed field. A string of eucalyptus trees stood along the edge of the nearest neighbor's yard. The summer sun turned that room into an incubator, and sleep was nearly impossible in the afternoon.
Instead, we younger girl cousins huddled on the two double beds, whispering and giggling, We'd hear Grandma's slippers tapping the tile floor in the hallway and flop back into sleeping position, eyes closed.
"Are you girls playing 'possum?" she'd say. "You'd better get to sleep." And then the ultimate admonition: "Or I'm gonna get your good eye," in that remarkably deep voice from such a little woman.
I never did understand those words of caution from my quarter-Chickasaw, fully Okie grandmother, but it always was enough to make me toe the line.
Today, maybe, I'll be a grandma myself for the third time. I can't wait to have a bunch of grandkids taking a nap in the back guest room. I can't wait to sneak down the hallway and, smiling, listen to their giggling, then crack open the door and say, "Kids, you'd better get to sleep, or ...".
Because now I know how much love was in that old saying.
And I want to be just like my Grandma when I grow up.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
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