I Remember Grandma's Poem by Sally Campbell

You know, Grandma’s house was always a fun place to be
For everyone, including me
I have memories of Sunday dinners, family gatherings,
The joy of kin seeing everyone,
But, as a child, the number of kids there were,
Oh boy, did we have fun!

The white farmhouse made of wood,
The tin roof which made the patter of rain sound so good,
A small country kitchen;
Oh, those teacakes she would bake.
The living room, often filled with sadness
Yet, in equal parts,
Alive with gladness.
Two bedrooms, where even the weigh of three handmade quilts
Could not keep out the cold of winter.
The absence of a bath,
But out back
The very popular, well trod, beaten down path.

A well-kept yard free of grass to mow
White sand, leveled by the straight marks of a rake,
Destroyed by our imaginary roads made by Grandpa’s hoe.
Seems there were always chickens, a necessity raised for food,
But you can bet, the relieving spot each chicken would seek
Would be the very spot I would undoubtedly choose
To place my bare feet.

A small lady in stature was grandma;
Snowy white hair with strands fine as silk
Carefully wound into a perfect ball atop her head,
At times I thought her selfish in my mind, now looking back I know
Free of the abundance to give she had no choice.
“Grandma, can I have a piece of cornbread and onion? ”
“Naw, I’m saving that for supper, ” was all she said.
Too young to understand or to see her side,
I thought for certain I would starve
At the mere age of five.

To remember those times now, they seem better than then,
Strange how things seem better when you remember when.
Feather beds, homemade pickles, washday in the yard;
Things my generation remembers as the “good old days”
When life was hard and different,
Yet, perhaps, better in many ways.

If someday, I pray, God blesses me with grandchildren,
Will thrill my soul if happy they will be,
When my precious child says to her children
They’re coming to see me.