Happy Birthday Granny
1:29 PMEven though she is in heaven, I like to celebrate my Granny's birthday every year, since it falls on Saturday, I'll go ahead and start celebrating now. In memory of her, I want to write about some of the best childhood memories I have. Memories that are engrained in me so well that I can still taste, hear, and smell every part of them. I can still hear her voice, and the way she always called me "Baby." I can remember all the wrinkles in her hands and the freckle in her right eye.
I spent one weekend a month and many weeks throughout the summer with her and my Papa at their home in Poteau, Oklahoma. Life is much slower there. It is still nice to visit, but it won't ever be the same. It's still really hard for me to go back, because everywhere you go, there's a memory.
Getting cashews from the EZ Mart on the Muskogee Turnpike to snack on during the drive.
The way she ran out the door to greet us before we got out of the car.
Her fancy jewelry and red patten leather shoes.
Her ice cold, sweet tea.
Getting in trouble (time after time) for hanging on the rope that held the pool thermometer.
Always feeling like I was washing my hair in a salon with all the haircare options.
Never going into the backyard without shoes -- those stickers will get 'cha.
Going to get pina colada snow cones every afternoon after swimming.
Getting to mow the yard on the riding mower and making it look more like a corn maze than a manicured lawn.
Fishing the shale bank at Wister Lake.
The smell of racecar fuel on Saturdays.
Cold watermelon.
Laying in bed and making her tell me stories until I fell asleep. (Oh how I wish I had written them down)
The way the pool deck burned my feet.
The freezing cold temperatures of the house in the summer time, thanks to numerous fans and A/C unit.
Hamburgers from Tri-State Speedway.
How she would bribe the Fan Club attendant @ Tri-State to make sure I won "Junior Fan" at least three times a season.
The way she liked to cover everything in puff paint.
Our trips to visit Great Grandma Hazel in Ft. Smith.
How the real front door was only used by salesmen and the pizza delivery guy.
Waving goodbye to her and Papa while they stood at the mailbox, and not looking away until I could no longer see them.
My Granny loved unconditionally. Compliment her on something, and there a good chance you were going home with it, even if it was the shirt off her back. She was loyal to her closest friends, and your worst enemy if you crossed her. She wasn't afraid to tell you if you had done wrong. A little woman with a loud voice -- she was a wild one, that Granny Sue, and I miss her everyday.
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