It’s been 5 years since my grandmother gained her wings. From her death, a floodgate of memories, thoughts, and words opened up and this blog was created. I often think of what I would want her to know since her passing. I realize she is watching over me and is well aware but I miss the ability to pick up the phone and hear her voice. I miss being able to sit at her counter in the kitchen and get lost in her stories I have heard numerous times. I loved to watch her face as she told these stories. I had these stories memorized but when she told them, it was though it was the first time I had ever heard them, picking out new details I missed the last 100 times.

My grandmother was born in 1936, the same year as Elvis who she adored. I think they had a lot in common as kids-so poor they didn’t have a pot to piss in. The irony is that her maiden name Baker had once been the name of the county where she grew up. She was in fact a descendant of the Duke of Clanton, now with Chilton as its county name. I wondered why the name changed and read somewhere that the folks in this county didn’t take too kindly to what the Baker men’s political beliefs were; carpetbaggers I believe was the term I read. I digress. I don’t want to be political in my blogs or worry about something that has long since passed. This is more about the woman I knew, loved and adored.

She was the youngest of Auklee and Ola Mae Wright. Her mama died giving birth to Ruby who would have been her younger sister but God needed Ola Mae and baby Ruby. My grandmother was close to her siblings. She could have more fun with them than anyone else on this green Earth. What they didn’t have in money and things, they made up with love. From her stories I learned that being poor didn’t mean you were unhappy. Their love was what kept them going when times got tough and when the only thing she had to eat in a day was an orange peel she found on the playground. This kind of love moves mountains, gives you the ability to walk through fire, and live to tell your stories that live on for generations.

My grandmother was a beauty. I forever have an image in my mind from an old photo of her standing by her house on Strawberry Street with her beehive hair style. Her beauty routine included Ponds cream every night and Jergen’s lotion. I keep both as part of my routine too. I’ve written about it before but strawberry scented Suave was the shampoo I remember most at her house.

She had a green thumb and was a very good seamstress. Oh, how he could cook, but I miss her fried bologna sandwiches the most.

My grandmother was strong and not afraid to speak her mind. She was a true peach-soft exterior with a hard inner core.

Now at 37 I look in the mirror, I catch a glimpse of her from time to time. I have some of her features. I don’t know if I’ll ever be as strong of a woman as she was but I’ll try. I’m thankful God saw it fit for her to be my grandmother and to have her on this Earth as long as we did.

I miss you Maw Maw Faye. We all do. Don’t worry, you continue to live on through your stories, the lessons you taught us, and the love you shared. I love you a bushel and a peck.