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| Grandma loved her African Violets |
Grandma had a davenport with doilies on armrests and an angora throw
(which I loved to pet as it was so silky) and an ornately carved rocking chair that creaked.
A round cobalt blue Chinese jar fascinated me, glaze so shiny... yet knew not to touch.
Center stage, or so it seemed, resided an African Violet on a small walnut side table;
filtered summer sun, full in winter, curtains adjusted accordingly.
A tiny entryway with stairs that immediately transported one to the treasure-laden attic
or a turn to the left towards a small kitchen with oval chrome table and red vinyl chairs.
In the evening, we'd sit porch side, watch neighbors stroll along sidewalk;
if a Saturday night, Lawrence Welk entertained on her small black & white T.V.
Close to my heart I hold this long-ago room, remember dinner on T.V. trays,
library books quietly read, laughter of family gathered, Lulu's & Olive's tongue twisters
and the security I always felt within Grandma's living room.
by Margaret Bednar, April 11, 2018
My grandmother had a lot of funny words (or so I thought) ... called her couch a davenport. Her refrigerator an ice box, the basement a cellar. Gay meant funny as in laughter.
This is linked to "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Micro-Poetry - Long-Ago Rooms" no more than 12 lines with a nod to the phrase "long-ago rooms" from the poem When You Come by Maya Angelou.
and also NaPoWriMo - National Poetry Month (30 Poems in 30 Days)
17 comments:
A lovely memory which reminds me in many ways of my own grandmother, Margaret, especially the doilies on armrests. My grandmother didn't have a
round cobalt blue Chinese jar but I was fascinated by her willow pattern plates and tea cups that had a pattern when you poured in liquid - yes, I also knew not to touch.
Very reminiscent of my Grandma's living-room also – the physical objects, the activities and the feeling. I loved every word!
(I find this especially interesting as we come from three different countries.)
I, too, relate to this poem. The rooms in her house, the doilies, sitting on the porch in summer, all of it. Only the artifacts are different. What a wonder life is, the surprise that we share so much. A lovely poem creating memories to start my day :-)
Beautiful!💞 The emotions in this poem tug at one's heart and remind of their own grandparents and an era long ago.
Mmmm. nicely done, fine array of details: There's something about the child's eye which is so much more voluptuous in encountering the world. Reminds me of my mother's mother's house in Jacksonville (FL), with so many antique details and ways.
Not to touch in Grandma's house - that is how I was brought up too, and I shared your fascination for her things, some of which now belong to me. I will never forget a single room of the houses in which she lived. Thank you for this wonderful share.
A very cuddly poem Margaret; thanks for sharing sweet memories
much love...
Beautiful memories. You took me there with your words.
What a sweet memory of childhood times with your grandma. This seems to have resonated with everyone, including me. Thank you for writing this, Margaret.
I love your Grandmother's room. xoxoxohugs
Margaret you've encapsulated so much in the African violet and Grandma's furniture - I feel the ache of, and for, this long ago room
This took me back to my own grandma's modest little cottage. As a child, we actually HAD an ice box, in the root cellar, we had to buy blocks of ice to keep things cool.
This takes me back to the home in which I grew up - my mother and dad, my grandmother and her father, her two daughters (my mothr's sisters). Some things were don't touch but mostly it was all open to all of us. WE also had an icebox where overage was kept and a woodstove in addition to the electric - for big family meals. This poem is so beautiful and brings up so many memories.
Nice, nice, Margaret. Brings memories of me and Grandma, Mom took her washing to Grandmas on Mondays and my grandmother kept me entertained. There wasn't TV back in those days, about ten more they had the first in the neighborhood. On Saturday nights we would go there after supper to watch wrestling with Grandpa.
I wrote of my room being given to my sister before I was six. Then I slept on the front porch until I left for college. Couldn't say all that in a micro.
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Makes me nostalgic for long ago rooms too :) We had "davenports" at our house and my mother grew African violets like weeds! Thanks for peek into your precious memories.
You have described the details of the furnishings as well as you have the emotions involved. I remember that table and chairs!
Evocative and nostalgic, Margaret! I suddenly remember my Maternal grandparents' tenament apartment in the Bronx: Galley kitchen, yellowing wall-paper, the odor of cigarette smoke and that TV on its wooden feet. That, and the passing jet liners overhead! :)
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