Today a woman came through my line at work. She was very old and small, but really nice. By the time she had finished checking out and began to walk away, her perfume made its way over to me. It was very strong and overpowering, but not in a bad way. It instantly reminded me of my great grandmother. Nanaw has passed away, but at that moment I remembered every detail I ever knew of her. I don’t remember very much, being as young as I was when she died, but I do remember things.
The perfume was sweet like molasses; just like my Nanaw. I felt like I could almost taste it. It reminded me of all the sweet treats she would give us (namely: double bubble gum, milkshakes, and fig newtons). She was always so ready to forgive us if we did anything wrong. She was happy and she smiled. She was always smiling. The thought made me smile.
The perfume also smelled warm. If only I could get close enough to the fragrance, I’m so sure I could’ve felt the warmth too. It was the kind of warmth you can only get when you’re sitting in someone’s lap; someone who loves you. The kind of warmth you can only get from someone rescuing you from an injury, and telling you with compassion “oh, sweet girl, that’s only a little scrape. It won’t even bruise” whether it’s true or not. Nanaw had that warmth.
The scent was bright like the sun and unknowingly demanded attention; just like Nanaw. She walked into the room, and everyone looked her way. Everything was brightened (even her and papaws house, which daddy always called a cave), and smiles spread from her face to each person in the room as we all waited to hear if she had anything to say.
The perfume was bold and fierce, and Nanaw wasn’t afraid of anything. Now, to a young me, not being afraid of anything pretty much meant that she could search a dark closet, full of shoes and jackets, to kill a skittering cockroach so that her little grandchild could sleep ok, but that made her a brave hero. She always said what she knew and what she thought, and Nanaw ALWAYS got the last word.
The perfume swept comfort through my mind like the many times she had the family gather around the dinner table and, together, eat the most delicious food you’ve ever tasted: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and her famous flat biscuits that were ONLY right when they had three finger marks on the top of each. We were family (whether we wanted to be or not) when Nanaw made our food.
She was helpful and kind and wise. She always knew how to have fun and work hard, and she knew exactly what to say to get the rest of us to do the same. Her yard was where my earliest adventures started and were made so much more exciting by the wild flowers and the animals that also seemed to be drawn into her company. Her house was a fortress of many rooms and passageways that could only be found when in the company of a sister. When I think of Nanaw, I recall my fondest memory of her: sitting in her lap while she sat in her big chair. Nikki was on the ground at our feet and the three of us were snapping green beans. My parents and various aunts and uncles were scattered on the floor and couches talking and laughing while some sports game was playing on the TV for papaw and the guys (who were never really watching it until one of us tried to change the channel).
Just like they were at work earlier, my eyes are red and watery. The other occupants of the green cove springs Starbucks are glancing anxiously my way, no doubt wondering what wrackspurst has flown into my ear. So I’m gunna go order a hot chocolate and enjoy the rest of this very restful and relaxing evening. I’ll read my new book and later meet up with friends for dinner and a movie night. Later days! 10-9-09