grandma.

when i was a child i remember days spent inside grandma & grandpa's home. the same home my grandpa was raised and where he raised his own nine children. two girls, seven boys, one set of twins. each visit my mind teems with memories of times spent sneaking around, peeking in drawers, snacking & gorging on Polish delights and homemade bread with jam.

sleeping upstairs in a room where six children once slept, three to a double bed. such tender memories of being tucked under the covers atop these well worn mattresses, reading with the sunlight and jumping all around without a care.

grandpa sitting in his chair. grandpa's chair next to his pipe tray. now reupholstered and fashioned to shine this was where my grandpa would sit for hours as we took turns at the constant rotation of being able to sit on his knees and listen to stories overflowing with enthralling plot lines with sailor-like character development.

a refrigerator overflowing with polish sausage & links,
spreads & mayo salads, submerged with beans and jam.

she says she has made only 47 afghans, but beg to differ. i believe she made only was able to fashion 47 afghans for the grandchildren before she was no longer able to sit in her parlor chair and crochet away like she use to be able to. yet, blankets like these have been a covering haven of protection & rest since i was a child curling up in the same couch that is still there today.

even today i feel like a trespasser in the adult bedroom, where our parents use to stay
while the children were minded to upstairs to play. this visit our uncle joey was visiting and still, over twenty years later, i still feel like i'm sneaking into the principals office to steal chocolates when i step foot inside the door. the drawers that held the crayons and coloring books was in here, along side the Pope and the trusty Polish dictionary.

grandma's sanctuary.

grandma.

while visiting i snuck upstairs and dug into the chest where grandpa once kept his pictures, news clipping and memories from WWII. Together, for a couple hours we searched through memories, faces, families and forgotten news and obituaries. She shared that it had been over ten years since she opened the chest of treasures due to an inability to walk up stairs or bend over and lift. Following these realistic explanation she shared,
"there is no one to look through them with any more, pa has been gone for eighteen years."

on the way out of manistee before heading to my parents and his,
we stopped by the Lake to see what riches were to be found.