Anne Peterson

I write stories and goosebump poetry

White Coffee and Wildflowers

Today is Grandma day. A day I look forward to all week. A day when I start smiling and don’t stop till I drop the kids off back home.

And I don’t mean the kind of smile I put on right before I meet someone new. I mean an honest to goodness smile that goes through all the layers of who I am.

Maybe it’s because I know when I’m with these short people, I am loved, really loved.

Maybe it’s because I feel more like me when I’m with them.

Who knows? Maybe it’s because I allow myself to enjoy them every minute they are here.

It’s the little things

We’re sitting on a blanket on beautiful green grass. I watch as my 4 year old granddaughter runs and brings me tiny wildflowers. I see the sun shine through her blonde hair and the sparkle in her brown eyes she hands them to me. You would think they were diamonds for all her excitement.

I hear the laughter in her voice as we sit down and have a picnic while her brother is practicing his swings.

Today is Grandma day and I feel loved.

How can I not feel loved when I’ve heard that my granddaughter wakes up excited on Wednesdays because she knows she’s coming over?

Traditions passed down

I remember as a child going to our grandparent’s house. It was also on Wednesday. Bonanza was on their old Zenith TV set, followed by Huckleberry Hound.

And when we’d walk into their brick bungalow, the smell of my grandfather’s cigar would hit us in the face.

Yia Yia, as we called her, would be in the kitchen making us something to eat, pouring Kool-aid into small plastic glasses with specks of glitter. I always wanted the pink glass. It was the best Kool-aid in the world.
Grandma’s house was a warm place. A place where we belonged.

Our other grandparents



Then there was my dad’s parents who lived above the grocery store. We lived with them. Early in the morning, after my brother and I had our breakfast, we’d climb the stairs and Yia yia would ask, “Did you have breakfast?”

And every day we’d lie, “No.”

In minutes, she placed Feta cheese and fresh bread before us along with our favorite, a large cup of almost white coffee, laden with sugar. And oh, the wonderful smell. It called to us every morning.

She spoke to us in Greek, but she loved us in English.



My own Grandma day

Yes, I love Grandma day.

It’s easy to love my grand kids. I am drawn into their inquisitive eyes, so full of wonder they spill out all over you.

I remember last week, driving away from Ruthie’s house, I could tell she was saying “Goodbye,” but then I saw a pained expression cross her little face. I backed the car a little and leaned forward.

“I’m sorry, Ruthie, did you want to tell me something else?”

And in Ruthie-like fashion, she told me how much she loved me. This is a 10-year tradition I started with her brothers.

She said, “I love you as big as the sky and it’s huMUNGous.”

Her words sank into the deepest part of me.

“Oh, thank you Ruthie. And I love you as big as the sky, all the way back to my house.”

And then I saw it. The smile that said, “I knew you did.”

Love speaks

Jude’s baseball practice is over now. We’re gathering things together.

Ruthie is standing by a chain-link fence that stretches far to the left and right of us.

She waits for my attention, which doesn’t take long.

“Grandma, I love you as big as a fence,” she says.

And I smile back. Because it’s hard to talk when you’re so full of love.

About Anne Peterson

I write words you can feel, sometimes they rhyme. If I'm not writing, I'm telling stories from my head, to little ones who call me grandma.

12 Replies

  1. Anne, you weave words together better than just about everyone I know. The pictures you painted of the love you share with your grandkids warm my heart.

    Thanks for sharing this!

    1. Frank,

      What a wonderful thing to say. There was nothing in the world I wanted more than to be a mother. And being a grandmother gives me the opportunity to revisit those days. Thanks for taking the time to read and for your thoughtful comment. You really are an encouragement.

  2. Anne, this warms my heart and soul. There is nothing like being a grandmother! Your post captures those beautiful exchanges of love so eloquently!

    1. Terry,
      Thank you so much for your comment. Yep, I thought being a mother was great, but I had no idea we would get to relive so many wonderful memories when becoming a grandma. Thank you for your kind words.

  3. love your blog. good to know you 🙂 blessings

    1. Donna,
      Thanks for reading and for your comment. And it’s good to know you as well!

  4. The picture you paint is beautiful. I love this story!

    1. Thanks so much for taking the time to comment. I loved writing it, but even more, I love spending time with my precious grandchildren. I hope you read the one about sweet Olivia.

  5. Awww, Anne! You made me think of my grandma with this post. How I miss those days, how I wished I had known my other grandma. Thank you for such a lovely post!

    1. Adriana,
      Thanks so much for taking the time to read and to leave such a thoughtful comment. I’m so glad you enjoyed it. I sure enjoyed writing it. And we are going to be welcoming a new grand son. Ruthie, Jude, and Charlie’s baby brother. I can hardly wait. I already love him. As well as sweet Livie who is in heaven.

  6. Anne,
    The value of the gift of your writing to the world is only surpassed by your gift of love to your family. Keep writing. Keep loving.

    Jathan.

    1. What a wonderful thing to say. Thank you Jathan. You can imagine the depth of pain we have gone through in losing our sweet little granddaughter. It’s one thing to grieve someone, but quite another to grieve when it’s your family member who has lost someone. It’s exponentially painful.

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