Breakfast with Grandaddy and Mam-ma - Joyce Claassen's MySpace Blog |

Breakfast with Grandaddy and Mam-ma - Joyce Claassen's MySpace Blog |
Something I wrote awhile back that I love to go back to and read.

I woke up this morning bright and early. Girls were watching cartoons and the boys were still snuggled up in bed. A beautiful chilly fall morning with fog on the field. It was about 6:45 am, good enough time to start the coffee.

Do you ever have those moments where one thought triggers another until it is all you think about.

Coffee started it.

My Granddaddy used to put cheese in his coffee. I can still see the ivory cup that he would sit in a tiny bowl. Little brown cracks in the cup made me think that he drank out of it for a 100 years.

That is all it took, I was there in the little old kitchen on Stevenson Dr. An old painting of a man bowing his head in front of a bowl of fruit and bread. A set of old Tupperware salt n' pepper shakers, a jar of chow chow, a jar of homemade preserves all sitting there on the table. Mam-ma had cut up butter and sharp cheddar in another old bowl.

I could hear the hum of the refrigerator, the sizzle of the sausage, and the pot that was being scraped to stir the grits. Mam-ma had poured me Tang in those old goblet styled brown glasses.

I was looking at my grandfather. He peered up over his thick black rimmed glasses. Beautiful old eyes he had. I could smell the South Carolina clay that was apart of him. He could shower for hours and move to Maine and he would still smell like South Carolina. The old white plates were on the table. Sausage was done. Grits were ready. Breakfast with my Grandparents was over.

Mac woke up and the girls came in. I fixed them all a bowl of grits with cheese and a side of sausage. They don't like it mixed into their grits like their mama, rather they dip it in syrup. I sat down at my kitchen table and drank my coffee, no cheese, I like the sweet creamer that taste like vanilla caramel.

I wonder do they know how much I miss them? Are they proud? Do they think my kids are wonderful?

I sat and smiled. As much as things have changed, so much is still the same.

Memories are beautiful...