I miss her…
Over the last few months I have been deliberate in who, what, why I follow and friend on social media. I have enough stress in my life I don’t need my mindless scrolling to inadvertently add to that. I’m what you might call a daydreamer and a night thinker.
That’s code for I’m an overthinking insomniac.
Regardless my feed is full of videos, destinations and restaurants.
So when a picture from one of my favorite restaurants popped up, it hit me hard.
The picture in question was a plate from a bar b que restaurant in Hot Springs, Arkansas. It’s where my grandparents lived and I visited them every summer. We always made a point to get McClards. It is a family run restaurant serving food that you can’t get in the Midwest.
One item in particular the tamale spread my Grandmother always got.
My Grandmother has been gone more than 12 years. But lately I have wanted, no I’ve needed to talk to her. To start with I wanted to tell her I miss opening my work email and finding inappropriate jokes. The woman had a wicked sense of humor. I miss our mini book club. I have a soft spot for murder mysteries because of her, but the last year she was alive we read The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood and would address each other by our Ya Ya names in our emails.
I want to tell her about G. That her spunk and quick wit shines through in her great granddaughter.
I want to tell her I am writing! Like really writing, not just in a journal.
I want to tell her about some of the people in my life.
That I wear pink now.
Growing up my Grandmother always bought me pink stuff, I did not like pink I liked purple. She eventually switched to purple, but sometimes it was our thing.
I want to tell her I still have the Levi’s jacket she bought me when my sweet parents got me a black, puffy number when I just wanted a basic denim jacket.
I still love shoes.
I appreciate a good lipgloss and lipstick.
I like wine. Even red.
I really like my job, I mean really like it. I host a radio show (!)
I keep her bottle of Chanel No. 5 on my dresser and dream of going to Paris and stealing from hotels.
I finally appreciate SOME country music.
But I will not Achy Breaky my Heart.
I sometimes eat cake for breakfast because as she’d say it’s no worse than a doughnut.
I can make fried chicken. I don’t do it often or as well as you, but I definitely use your methods.
I just want to hear you say “oh me.” I miss your laugh.
There are pieces of me floating around that I feel like a solid talk on your porch swing could fix. I just want that.
As hard as it was to see that picture of the yumminess that is a tamale spread. It also reminded me of all that amazing things she gave me.
The knowledge that size, sex and where you come from should never be a deterrent. My grandmother was a petite, southern woman from a very small town who traveled the world and ran a house, had a career and made sure I always knew I was loved.
I miss you.
Duchess Three Sheets to The Wind- Princess Running Mascara Misses you.
I realize Mommas this wasn’t my normal blog… but know I always got you.
If you will excuse me, I’m going to dig into some tamale spread.