June 5 2012

A place I remember…

As the car pulls up by the green house, I leap out and sprint up the driveway, through the screen door to my favorite place in the world. The wooden table holds a bowl of plastic fruit in the middle of the placemats carefully arranged. I run past the table and stop for a moment by the shelves for my very own special slice of Parmesan cheese. I turn around and the giant roosters hanging on the wall watch me enjoy my treat. I walk over to the table and plop down on the green vinyl seat anxiously awaiting my instructions. Coming to Grammy’s house on Sunday was my favorite part of the week. Grammy always had me help and I couldn’t wait to see what my job was today.

“Michelle, would you help me clear the table so we can set it?” Grammy called to me. I gathered the placemats into a pile and moved the bowl of plastic fruit. Grammy brought over the pile of plates and forks and knives. I arranged them carefully on the table. The whole family gathered around this table every Sunday. As I placed plates, I decided where everyone would sit. (Of course, we always sat in the same places.) The aroma of garlic filled every molecule in this space. Macaroni, meatballs, eggplant, sometimes braciole or artichokes would join the party. One thing was for sure, everyone got their favorites: mine was cucumber salad, just for me. Papa always had his hot peppers, Auntie Jo got a piece of steak, Mom had her black olives, and Auntie Ann got her artichoke.

Funny, Grammy didn’t even get a seat at the table. She served the meal and fussed and cleaned as we ate. Once people finished and got up from the table, this was the best time, she would join those of us left. We’d sit around the table and talk and laugh and tell stories. The tastes unparalleled, the smells delicious, but nothing compared to the feelings, comfort, acceptance, joy, love, family.