April 7, 2013
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Hotcakes
I woke up when I felt the depression from the side of the bed. Grandma had sat down next to me. Her hand tousled my hair and she said, “Good morning, sleepy-head. What do you want for breakfast?” I knew what I wanted. She knew what I wanted too, but it was our ritual. I must’ve smiled at her, because I could see it reflected back on her face. “You can have anything you want. ” she let me know. It was always hard for me to just come out and say what I wanted, even when asked specifically. I mumbled probably too quiet to hear, and she replied, “Hotcakes it is!”.
She got up and headed back down the hall. I lay there a few more minutes in that extra bedroom with the pink hue. The wall along the door was lined with a low book shelf. It was filled with Grandpa’s unpainted ceramics. When I would go to bed at night, I was always slightly afraid of them. So much so, that I would lay really still til I fell asleep right where I was. After a few moments I smelled them, the hotcakes. They were mixed in with the coffee scent coming from the kitchen. Everywhere else in my life they were called pancakes. Grandma was the only person I knew who called them “hotcakes”. Hers even tasted different. As an adult, I don’t know how many recipes I’ve tried, trying to replicate them.
I padded down the hallway and came into the kitchen. Grandpa was sitting at the table with his paper. One side would go down and he’d say, “Well, Good morning, Stranger! Who are you?” and I’d giggle accordingly. “Where’s Grandma?” I’d say, and he would always reply the same thing. “She went to Muskogee.” “No, she didn’t, where IS she?” I’d reply, with a smile on my face, one that I could see reflected back on his face. Then she’d come around the corner from wherever she’d had to step off to for a minute.
Depending how far into the cooking process she was, she might pick me up and sit me on the counter top near her, so I could watch. She had stainless steel mixing bowls. I loved the way the kitchen smelled, some elusive mix of the wood from the cabinets, her spices, and whatever else was in there. When the food was ready the three of us sat at the round table in the corner, between the two big windows. We’d watch the the hummingbirds dance around the feeders on the porch and we’d eat warm hotcakes, with fresh milk Grandpa had brought inside, in a plastic wide mouth jug. It was easy not to notice how hard they worked, when I was a little kid. I suppose it was due to the fact that they never drew attention to that. They just seemed content to discuss the paper, and the birds and take the day as it was, however it was.
It’s one of my best memories, Grandma, Grandpa, and the hotcakes.
Comments (16)
My sons sleep in that room, except ours has a turquoise tint. It shares a wall with the kitchen, so I could hear her moving around making coffee and such and the sound of Ish Schmidt droning on the radio. Grandma would make animal pancakes for us. My favorite was a giraffe! Aren't grandmas great?
@Wildflowersp - They really are. Sometimes I'm talking to my Mother-in-law, and one of the boys comes walking in the room, and the way she turns and stands and gives them that smile, makes me think of my own Grandma, and how she is that for them. Is there like, some Grandma school they go to, to learn how to do it??
Beth, you are a really good writer. I love this sweet post.
You make me want to spend the night at my grandparents!
Waffles..she would make me waffles, that was my favorite. and right after that she would start the gravy (sauce to the non-Italians
and let it simmer all morning into the afternoon until the rest of the family got there for Sunday pasta. Green peppers and basil, I can't smell either without thinking of my childhood at grandpa and grandma's house.
This beautiful little post makes me wistful...I have sweet memories of living at Grandmom and Grandpop's rowhouse on Marwood in Philadelphia. I adored her simple, bright kitchen and the roast beef meals on Sunday. When I was younger, I'd spend the night at my aunt's house. Me and my sister. I loved mornings, when we'd go downstairs, into the kitchen and she'd have oatmeal and bananas ready for us. SOmetimes, scrambled eggs. Today, I love those foods still, and I'd love to replicate their kitchens! Oh, and I look at my grands "that" way...I think it comes naturally to those of us who are thrilled that we get to have these fabulous little beings in our life!
Oh gosh, this brought back memories of my days spent with my grandparents. They were few and far between though since we moved often. I cam to treasure them times. Such wonderful memories. Thank you for sharing yours.
it sounds like your grandparents were really sweet. it's great to have good memories like that!
sweet memories~ when i hear stories like this i think, "that's the kind of grandma i want to be!"
)
Great memories. That's wonderful feeling that what is hotcake only your grandma knows that it is pancake. Thank you so much for your post. please update sometime and some new stuff would be highly appreciated. Free Love Things
my granny used to make crepes with the jam and then sprinkled with white powered sugar.
my favorite memory of granny is her touching me all the time and pushing my bangs back on my forehead and just staring at me all the time.
Great memory. Thanks for sharing.
ahhhh what sweet memories! You are such a good writer!
I love it when you write about your past because you do it with such warmth. Happy Monday, Beth.
Love this and it made me get a bit teary eyed. I never had a close relationship with any of my grandparents. I love that she called them Hot cakes.
I loved the way you described this memory. Too bad you can't re-create the exact taste of her hot cakes. But maybe that makes the memory all the more special, you know?
What a wonderful story and memory. LOVED this.
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thanks for your nice words, guys! I loved how it made many of you remember something similar about your own grandparents. That was fun to read in the comments!