My grandmother had a great big tree growing next to her house.
Oh, so many great memories I have of just the two of us and that great big tree. Sometimes she’d get a book and I’d sit on her lap and she’d read me stories till she had to go in to make supper. I loved the way the breeze would brush up against her hair and gently let me smell the sweetness of it. Her hair smelled of sweet apples and cinnamon.
Sometimes she’d sit for hours just watching me play with my dolls. She’d giggle and once in while I’d catch her taking a nap. She would always tell me she was thinking and needed to concentrate, but I knew better.
Sometimes she’d bring her prayer book and sit under the tree. She would sing God songs and clap her hands.
When my baby sister got big we would play ring a round the rosie with grandma and one day she hid on the other side of it while we played hide and go seek. We found her quick.
On Easter Sundays she would set the big ol’ picnic table right under that tree and we all would have a great big feast. She would hide the eggs and we would run to find where she hid them. We’d have to bring them to her while she sat rocking joyfully under the tree. She always had real nice candy inside each and every egg.
Ah yes, that tree by grandma’s house sure does bring back memories. I go there often and still talk to grandma, you see, she is buried right under that tree, the tree that brings back all those great memories.
