1: By Alana Culbertson
2: For the grandparents I dearly love and always miss, and the memories we have made together.
3: It seems like only yesterday that Hi-Ho Grandma and I were walking through the garden, swatting at pesky flies and dropping pods of black-eye peas into our buckets. I saw her straw hat bobbing across the garden- d o w p to stretch her back. n to snap off some peas, u I heard the thud of pods on the bottom of the buckets and her sweet voice softly singing, "Hi-ho, hi-ho it's off to work we go!"
4: And we would.
5: It seems like only yesterday that Hi-Ho Grandma and I were sitting on the back porch, snapping peas, and watching the sunset. We were sticky from the summer heat, and the usual evening breeze was not feeling merciful. Suddenly, the rhythmic squeak from her rocking chair turned silent and I looked over to see her sweet face light up into a pretty smile. "I think God is tellin' us it's time for some ice cream," she said. "And I would hate to disobey God. Let's have some darlin'."
6: And we did.
7: It seems like only yesterday that Hi-Ho Grandma and I were reaching up under plump, fussy hens to check for eggs. Her crooked fingers would hold out their perfect brown or white ovals and we'd sit them carefully into the bottom of our straw baskets. I heard the hens clicking and squawking, and every so often, I saw tiny feathers float slowly to the ground. She listened to their fussing and eventually sighed and exclaimed, "Oh, come on now gals! I don't know who you've been listening' to, but it ain't like the sky is really fallin'!"
8: And it wasn't.
9: It seems like only yesterday that Hi-Ho Grandma and I were strapping on our checkered aprons, preparing to create colored angel food cake and carrot cookies for Easter. I heard the click of the wooden spoon bumping the edges of the glass bowl, and saw the clouds of flour rise as every cup fell in. | She hummed and twittered through her cooking songs and in between verses; she handed over eggs for cracking, sugar and milk for mixing, and battered covered spoons for licking. My tongue was glued to a spoon when she winked and said, "Sugar, you gotta be the best helper I ever had. Even your ol' grandpa don't lick a spoon like that."
10: And he didn't.
11: It seems like only yesterday that Hi-Ho Grandma and I were enjoying a lazy morning as rain drops splashed on the roof and slid down the cool, glass windows. I watched as she brushed her long, wavy, silver hair while she reclined in her chair. Without using a mirror, she twisted her long locks into a braid and curved it around the back of her head into a bun. She patted her bun and sighed, "I figure it's all for safe keepin'. If I keep my hair in a bun, I'll always know where it is. Less likely to lose it all this way I reckon."
12: And it was.
13: It seems like only yesterday that Hi-Ho Grandma smiled, laughed, walked, talked, and remembered. It doesn't seem long ago that she knew who I was, called me by name, wrapped me in a hug, and told me that she loved me.
14: But it was.
15: Hi-Ho Grandma has not remembered in a very long time. She doesn't remember picking peas or checking the chickens; sometimes she doesn't remember her name. That's why, everyday, Hi-Ho Grandma and I sit down for a chat. I share my memories of the times we spent together because hers aren't there anymore. I tell the same stories over and over again, day to day, but Hi-Ho Grandma's eyes light up like she's hearing it for the very first time. I hold her hand in mine and whisper, "It seems like only yesterday that you and I sat down for one of these long talks, Hi-Ho Grandma."
16: And it was.