Friday , December 9 2022

Grandma’s Favorite

By the time I arrived at the home of my grandmother in
Chicago, I had convinced myself that this would be the
most boring and wasted weekend I had ever spent.

My parents had moved away from the city years before,
when I was in junior high. We visited my grandparents
regularly in the years since, and my parents continued
to do so after I left for college. Grandpa died a few
years ago and left my grandmother, whose health is
excellent and whose mind is still competent, in charge
of their large house and several businesses.

Grandma was in want of nothing materially. She had
fallen, however, into a state of depression that no
degree of physical comfort could seem to assuage. After
Grandpa died, Grandma lost that zest for living that
her husband and the rest of her family had always loved
in her. In short, she had lost her connection to life

Grandma had always considered me one of her favorite
grandchildren. At least, that’s what my mother told me.
I admit that I always felt as if Grandma gave me more
attention than my brother and sister and my cousins.
“Come on, Gerald,” she would say. “I have a special
treat for you in the cupboard.” It would be a slice of
her famous apple pie, or a batch of her homemade
chocolate chip cookies served up with a cup of her
strong sweet milky coffee.

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