Grandma's Comfort

After I mentioned my grandma in yesterday's entry, I was thinking about her all day. We called her "Ma" because that's what our dad called her, and I spent a big chunk of my childhood hanging out at her house. Maybe that's why I became a big chunk. Ma was a terrific cook, and she specialized in carbs and fats. Every meal included homemade bread and jam, with cream right from the cow on my breakfast cereal. Or maybe I'd have her fresh-baked cinnamon rolls and coffee cake with apple slices. She made me thin egg pancakes with sugar on them, bread pudding, and egg custard. Her noodles for soup were from scratch, and I remember them hanging in sheets over the backs of chairs. We'd make ice cream sometimes when I spent the night, after a roast beef dinner with creamy mashed potatoes and thick gravy. Oink.
Ma was my protector from mean uncle Mike and cousin Chuck. Once they hung me out of the barn loft window by my ankles. I ran screaming to Ma, and she let them have it good as I made faces at them from behind her. She let me clean the eggs that she sold, using sandpaper brushes. I broke my share, but she didn't yell at me. My 5th birthday party was at her house because my mom was in the hospital having my brother, and I had a slumber party there in junior high, too.
Ma was a Cubs fan (yes, Erica! you have Cubs' genes!) and would listen to the games on the radio after I went to bed. Of course I had to be a Cubs fan, too, and followed them faithfully in my early teen years.
Ma and Grandpa came along when I moved to Eau Claire for college, both crying in the parking lot when they said goodbye. She wrote me letters from college on, many of which I still have. When I was pregnant with Erica, she assured me that childbirth wasn't that bad. After my 23 hours of labor and a C-section, she felt terrible--thought she'd let me down. I used to give her a calendar towel every year for Christmas, and she used them to make me a beautiful quilt when Erica, her first great-granddaughter, was born.
Ma has been gone for 22 years now, and I still miss her. She called me Annie and would give me a nickel to scratch her back. I was lucky to have her in my life for 27 years--but thank God she didn't leave me her recipes! I'd more likely be on The Biggest Loser than Dancing with the Stars!