A Grandmother's Love

Flash fiction - a tribute to Barbara Wansor - a mother, grandmother and great grandmother

“I write to write is what Nana used to say. And she'd point to Toby and say He's my muse.” Celia said.

They laughed at this. Remembering Toby, who was a fat, fluffy, orange kitty that sat around like a king demanding dinner at a certain time every day you could almost set the clock by it. Nana was very sad after Toby died. He truly was her muse for Nana didn't write much after that.

“It's been three days now and I still feel like she's going to walk in through that door.” The three granddaughters sat around their grandmother's kitchen table looking toward the back door. The one that led to her 'kitchen' garden as Dahlia liked to call it. Celia, Sissy and Mary allowed the silence to fill the room.

Mary wiped away a tear. “I hope she's gone to a better place.” Sissy, the wife of a minister, offered her comfort, “She has. Heaven has welcomed her with open arms.”

Celia, the forward thinker in the family and the only atheist, rolled her eyes but said nothing.

“I wish Nana was here right now to bake our favorite molasses cookies.” Mary said.

“Yes, yes, they were the best.” Sissy added then looked around her. “What do you say to making them now?”

Her sisters smiled kindly but quickly realized Sissy was serious.

“Really?” Celia looked around their grandmother's kitchen. “Alright, but where's her cookbook?” She got up to look in the cupboard.

Mary got up and gathered the flour and sugar and molasses.

“Found it!” Celia yelled. Their excitement built as they found the ingredients, the baking implements, and searched her favorite cookbook for the recipe. As they mixed and chatted and told funny stories of Nana's exploits, the nostalgia grew on them, wrapping them in a warm blanket of their grandmother's love.

The cookies baked and the smell filled the room. They sipped their grandmother's favorite bergamot black tea. The tears formed. The silence held. Until the old fashioned timer dinged.

The warm baked cookies teased their taste buds but before they partook, Celia offered a toast. With teacups in one hand and a cookie in the other, Celia toasted, “To Dahlia: the best, most wonderful grandmother anyone could ever have.”

“Here, here.” Sissy and Mary cheered.

They raised their teacups, clanked them together, and took a big bite of their molasses cookies. They laughed the only way three sisters could; together in grief, together with love for one another, together with the happiness they created by bringing to life a shared memory of a grandmother's love.