Over spring break, I had the privilege of traveling to Davenport, Florida, with my family. I was able to spend a little extra quality time with both of my grandmas; my grandma on my mom’s side of the family (Nonie/Nonnie) was my traveling buddy and flew with me to see my brother play baseball. My grandma on my dad’s side (Grandma Jean) lives in Florida and came to where we were staying for two days to spend time with my family and me. I adore both of them and have the fondest memories that used to be separated, so it was nice to be able to make memories with both of them at the same time.
Seeing Grandma Jean in my childhood was made possible through trips and visits, especially after Grandma Jean and Grandpa John moved from Virginia to Florida full-time. When making the visit, I wanted to spend as much time with my grandparents as possible. One way to accomplish this was setting my alarm for 5 a.m. to get to my grandparents’ house to walk with Grandma Jean and their dog Ollie. I would chat with my grandma on the walk alongside some of her friends and play with the dogs. Then we would return to their house, watch and discuss the news, complete the riddles in the paper, and chat. I would usually have a bowl of Raisin Bran cereal or oatmeal and enjoy a peaceful morning with my Grandma Jean before the rest of my family was awake and ready to enjoy the day together.
Grandma Jean was also the first person to introduce me to pickleball. If you have not heard of this sport, think of an off-brand tennis game with slightly different rules. Grandma Jean would willingly play pickleball with me and my brother essentially all day while we were visiting. Laughing with us over our silly mistakes, congratulating us on impressive scoring hits, and letting us have fun with an activity she was interested in.
Nonnie (also spelled Nonie) was a little closer to home, a short fifteen-minute max drive from my driveway to hers, so there are a lot more memories to pull from. I grew up with dinners every Sunday at Nonnie and Papa’s house. It was the house I was dropped off at when my parents needed their kids watched for a few hours. My fondest memories are typically sitting in the kitchen with a drink (either hot chocolate or lemonade, depending on the temperature) and talking to my grandma about school, friendship breakups, and drama, and I received some incredible advice.
Unfortunately, in my junior year of high school, my grandpa, Papa passed. My Nonnie and I were set to do “adulting” together, for me this meant learning from grandmother about managing finances, as I taught her how to pump her own gas, a job that had previously gone to my Papa. We learned together and grew closer, having more sophisticated conversations and the coloring books used in my childhood were replaced with articles and “adult coloring books”.
My brother truly didn’t lie when he told our mom that “Nonnie’s house just feels like it’s home”. One thing that always sticks with me is the overwhelming feeling of safety, love, and acceptance that radiates from these two homes, both my Grandma Jean’s house in Florida and Nonnie and Papa’s house in Vestal, New York.
Both my grandmothers radiate the utmost positivity, love, and support for their grandkids, no matter what. I’ve had the best home-cooked meals and conversations sitting across from my grandmothers. They are, without a doubt, my favorite relationships in my life. I would not be here, as the person that I am, without their advice, love, laughs, and ability to make anywhere they are a home atmosphere. They both have incredibly unique styles to get that homely atmosphere, but that doesn’t change the knowledge that anyone who interacts with my grandmothers will receive the gentlest form of love in the form of a sweet (maybe a little crazy and old) lady.
Thank you, Grandma Jean, for spending time with me, teaching me that being active and “mean” does not make you any less of a lady, and making me into the person I am today. Thank you, Nonnie, for always being a quick drive away when I needed you, for teaching me that sometimes girls are just mean and it doesn’t make you a terrible person for wanting better girl friends, and of course “adulting” with me, shaping me to be the person I am today. I would not be here without my grandmothers, and I would not have my name without my great-grandmothers. If you are lucky enough to have a grandmother in your life, thank them.