When I was a child, my mother worked at a home near her mother – my grandmother, Izabelle. I called her “Mama Izabelle.” To me, she was the greatest. She loved the Lord, and she loved me. During the summer, I would go with my mother to work on Thursdays and my grandmother would come through a path in the woods and get me. I would stand at the window, anxiously waiting for her.
When I would see her, I wanted to go meet her, but my mother would say, “Just wait. She will be here in a few minutes.” It would seem like more than a few minutes to me. I would hug her as if I had not seen her for months and then off we would go. I’d spend the entire day with her. When we got to her house, we would pick up apples and plums from the trees in her yard, talk and have a really great time.
There was a man who would come by selling vegetables and meats. Mama Izabelle would say, “What do you want to eat today?” Together, we would decide and if she needed anything, she would buy it. She would cook a full course meal, including dessert. Of course, I would be by her side helping. At least, I thought I was helping.
After lunch, it was “nap time.” I would lie on her couch, and she would sit in a rocking chair. I really think we both would take a nap. She would wake me, we would talk some more, and then it would be time to meet my mother. Through the wooded path we went.
Even though this was many years ago, I remember as if it were yesterday. When Mama Izabelle died, my mother asked me if I wanted anything from her house. I said I would like to have the couch. It has been in my den ever since. I left it as it was for a while and then I had it reupholstered. For me, it is a reminder of the great time I had with Mama Izabelle, and every time someone asks me about the couch, I get to tell the story again.
Life brings tears, smiles and memories. The tears dry; the smiles fade; but memories last forever.