When I was a child, Sundays were Lunch with the Grandparents days. Every Sunday, we would arrive at our grandparents’ house promptly at noon. My grandfather, dressed in a three-piece suit, complete with pocket watch and fob, would open the door. He had a bad knee, so he stood shorter than he should have, and when he walked he dragged one leg behind the other in a move that brings to mind Quasimodo. My sister and I would give him a hug and run through the entry way, down the hallway, past the kitchen, and into the living room to give grandma a kiss on the cheek. She was usually in the middle of a huge jigsaw. Lunch always included beautifully displayed cold cuts and a brown cow (soda and ice cream) for my sister and me. After lunch, grandpa would ask us to go into his office to fetch him his cigar (He smoked Dutch Masters). He would carefully take the cigar from the plastic wrapper, give one of us the ring from the cigar, and then fill the wrapper with smoke and hand that to the other granddaughter to make smoke rings.
Now we often spend Sundays with our grandchildren. Today we spent the morning with
“The Grands” having breakfast, playing games, and celebrating our granddaughter’s third birthday. Although my husband doesn’t wear a three-piece suit with a pocket watch or smoke Dutch Masters, and I don’t do the jigsaw puzzle, the routine is quite similar. We arrive to hugs and kisses, we eat lunch together, we read books, do crafts, and then we spend hours playing games of all sorts.
I love creating new memories that feel like old memories.