Anyone who knew my Gramma knew she made the best slippers. If you were lucky enough to get a pair, and many people were, you cherished them. You patched holes, you washed them sparingly and you begged her to make you a new pair when yours eventually fell apart.
Gramma slippers were more than slippers. They were Gramma. They were sitting on the front steps on a summer night, looking for the first star. They were Zoodles in a green bowl with toast cut from corner to corner. They were playing card games for quarters and always winning the jackpot, even if you lost every hand. They were having company when you spent the afternoon driving around town doing errands. They were always having a date for a hockey game. They were Gramma.
Then this past week, my mom came to visit. And she brought along something she found in the back of a closet… an almost brand new pair of Gramma slippers. I don’t know how they managed to hide this long or why it took us over 7 years to find them. But we did.
I know Gramma is always with me, but every once in a while, it’s nice to have a reminder. While I was curled up on the couch tonight watching TV, my toes were extra cozy, and it was like having a little bit of Gramma there with me (https://twitter.com/AmyBeeman/status/299763198985392128/photo/1). And that’s a pretty wonderful feeling.
Thanks for the slippers, Gramma.