The Best Kind Of Warmth

The Best Kind of Warmth

It was after midnight in mid-January, and for the past hour I had been listening for the sound of the car to reach my driveway. Hearing it turn in and an engine turn off, I opened the front door to a most welcome sight. Katherine and Savannah bounded out of the car and into my house! Running straight into my outstretched arms, one precious granddaughter grabbed me around the waist while the other hugged my neck, exclaiming the whole time how happy they were to finally arrive. As I bent down to return their hugs and kisses, joy reigned -- all was right with the world! Although I have visited them many, many times in Colorado, this was the first time they had flown cross-country to Georgia in almost four years. Their memories of Grandmama's home were very dim. Grinning in the background beneath the glow of the porch light were the children's parents: my son, Kevin, and my daughter-in-love, Cari. We three adults greeted one another with warm hugs, and while they returned to the rental car to get the luggage, the two little girls bounced down the front hall, looking at and touching almost everything in sight. They noticed the chest laden with framed photographs of the two of them, their parents, and their young cousins, all in various stages of growth, from Christmases past to summer vacation pictures made at the beach to school photos. I told them that those were the beautiful faces I looked at and prayed for daily, always smiling to myself when I looked at the family photos. They paused to touch the photo of their step-grandfather, Denver, who had died in 2002 when they were too young to remember him. Savannah scooped up and hugged Katherine Louise, the china baby doll dressed in a pink smocked dress and bonnet. The doll sat in the cane-bottom high chair which had belonged to my maternal grandfather, Horace, who was born in the year 1880. They darted from room to room, asking if the pretty bedroom was where they were to sleep. "Yes," I answered, "it's the one I call the Princess Room, especially for my granddaughters." I call it the Hero Room when their boy cousin, my young grandson, comes to visit.

Katherine, almost seven years old, took in everything with her eyes, smiling and saying how pretty all my dainty porcelain birds were. On the other hand, Savannah at age five, was hands-on. She picked up the miniature pottery bowls which I explained were treasures made by my mother, her great-grandmother, Katherine, for whom her sister Katherine is named. She handled the small brass deer family, as well as the fragile glass dogwood blossom sitting on a shelf and wanted to know if she could take the preserved brilliant blue Brazilian butterfly out of its case to touch its wings, "just one time, please." Both children then dashed to the sun porch where they spied the teacart filled with my collection of antique china teacups and saucers. Before I could let out my breath to say, "Oh dear, be careful!", they were merrily picking up as many cups as they could hold in their arms and in their small hands, chattering the entire time to each other. "Oh, look at this one, Savannah, it's your favorite color...pink." And, "Katherine, see this blue cup, you'll like it best...oh, look at this yellow one that looks like a tulip!" So as not to alarm them, I spoke very calmly, "Girls, be gentle, hold them carefully, be verrrry gentle." At that point, they asked me if we could have a tea party. I promised them that, indeed, we could and would the very next morning when they awakened. I suggested that they choose one cup and saucer each, plus one for their mother and one for me. Without hesitating, they knew exactly which ones they wanted. Stepping gingerly across the threshold into the living room, each child carefully placed her selections on the coffee table next to the sofa. Their choices were unusual; not a single teacup corresponded with the particular saucer in which they sat the cup! But that did not matter one whit's worth. They were delighted with their unmatched cups and saucers and with the promise of having tea served in them the following day.

The hour was late when we all settled down for the night. The giggling of the little girls in their Princess Room eventually ceased, and the house grew quiet. I am sure they were anticipating the tea party, "with real tea, Grammy, not pretend," as they closed their eyes on their way to dream-land, and I was looking forward to making memories for six whole days with two of my darlings. We could play and have tea five times a day if that is what they wanted. If one of the antique teacups happened to chip or break by accident, I was at the point in my life where that would not be considered a tragedy at all. Drifting off to sleep with the revelation that I had mellowed with the passing of years, my contentment was secure.

What a warm feeling it is to find a comfortable spot, sit, and sip hot tea as it swirls in a pretty china cup; however, in my opinion, the greatest pleasure is being in the presence of precious family members whose hearts are knit together. Many months may pass between visits when I can hold grandchildren's little hands, gaze directly into bright eyes and listen to excited voices tell me about everything in their colorful world. I believe the span of time between these visits has caused me to cherish the gift of family even more than normal. Teacups look pretty sitting on the cart or being raised to little lips, but it is the love, the smiles, antics, and conversations of loved ones, young and old, which bring genuine warmth to the cockles of my heart.

Story ID:	1992
Written by:	Susan Hammett Poole (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Family Memories
Writers Conference:	$500 2007 Family Memories Writing Project
Location:	LaGrange Georgia USA
Year:	2007
Person:	Katherine and Savannah