When my brother and I were little we would often get off the school bus at grandma and grandpa's. As the eldest, I was responsible for us both disembarking at the right stop. But at my tiny height back then, sitting in the massive, elevated school bus made me feel like I was in a rocketship watching the earth fly by, below. From way up there, all the houses in the neighborhood looked the same to me, and I used to worry that I wouldn't recognize our stop. But then grandma and grandpa would step out onto the porch and relief would flood through me. They were my beacon, and I knew I was home.Grandma spoiled us as rotten as any grandma ever could. She made us sandwiches and chocolate milk, the BEST deviled eggs conceivable, and always had a stocked cookie jar. Of course that was because half the time you were hand sparring with grandma, herself, getting into it.
Security and contentment were the best words to describe being there. One afternoon I was eating lunch at her dining room table while she worked in the kitchen. A radio was on in the corner and a lively song started playing. Suddenly grandma started shaking her hips and strutting across the floor to the rhythm of the tune. My eyes must have been saucers because she looked at me and laughed. «You didn't know your grandma could dance, did you?» She smiled. «Your grandma is cool.» And I was convinced. From that moment forward, she was never just grandma; she was celebrity grandma. I was sure she had been famous, once. But the truth was, she was too devoted to her family to share her talents with the rest of the world. Everything she had to offer, went straight to us.When I was twentyone I once went to a diner with some friends and ordered a chocolate milk. When they told me I was too old for that, I scoffed. That's nonsense, I said. I drink this all time with my grandma. And that will never change.