Grandmother's House Essay

Heavenly smells in the air, footballs on T.V, family is gathered around, and a comfortable homey feel of my grandmother’s house makes Thanksgiving one of my favorite meals of the year. I will always have memories of thanksgiving at my grandmothers. The smell that rushes your nose as you walk in to the house. So many mouthwatering smells go through the air at my grandmother’s thanksgiving. Her Thanksgiving dinner never fails to fulfill my expectations. With the whole family gathered and the dinner table full of delicious food, I can’t help but feel content.

A special memory I have about my Nana is when we were at her resting home in Northern California when she started making her lips look like a fish's lips. That day she ended up teaching me how to do fish lips. It made so exited and happy, but most of all I felt loved. And I will never forget when we were at my aunt's house

Just about every other Sunday, my parents would take my siblings and I over to my grandmother’s house and enjoy a meal with her. They were peaceful Sundays, where we would stuff ourselves with her delicious hand cooked meals and I would just sit there and listen to all the gossip between the adults while my little brother and sisters played. Friends and family would come and go throughout the day visiting whenever they were available. Just thinking about those Sunday’s always puts a smile on my face because those are some of my favorite memories as a child. My grandmother loved having people over and would never turn down anyone for anything no matter what time of the day it was. In my eyes, she was invincible because she always put others first and never stopped to rest.

One day after in thanksgiving break my grandma came to visit. I loved having my grandma over because she would always bring me chocolates and gifts, but also I loved seeing my mom happy and she would always have the biggest smile on her face when grandma was visiting. Everyone in the family thought grandma was a proper grandma the classic one, she would eat nicely and get her nails done, have her hair done and always try to look her best, but what I learned from this experience are lots of things that you would never think my grandma would do.

My family did everything in that house. Everything from family gatherings, Christmas mornings, Thanksgiving, and much more. We played catch with our football in the front yard and tended to our precious plants in the back yard. I celebrated many birthdays there. I felt comfortable, happy, and safe there. Then, one day we decided to move, and we left the place I loved.

Growing up and hearing my dad say, “I am going to Hattie’s house who wants to come.” This would always make all of us kids jump off the couch. As a matter of fact, I would have dropped anything I was doing to go to her house. Everyone loved my aunt Hattie. It always seems like she had the whole neighborhood at her house. That’s probably because she did. My aunt Hattie has always been so welcoming and open hearted; she was always so delighted to see anyone that walked through her door. She always made you feel as if her house was your own. Always insisting us to help ourselves to all the food and drinks she kept at the house. I can never remember a time being bored at my Aunt Hattie’s house. Her house was like an all you can eat buffet, racetrack and ballpark all at once.

The familiar smell of soft cookies and homemade cooking are common thoughts when people think about their grandma's house. Great feasts and family gatherings play a part in everyone's grandmother's home. But when I really think about my grandma's house only one word comes to my mind: fun.

My grandmother and I had always been very close ever since I was about 4 years old. Besides my great-grandmother who lived in California, she was the only grandmother I knew and loved. My paternal grandmother died a few months before I was born, so I did not get a chance to know her. My grandmother was a remarkable person. She had a smile on her face that could cheer up the saddest person. She also loved people; she was always very sweet and polite to everybody. Even if she did not particularly like the person she was talking to, she would remain polite until the conversation was over. My fondest memories are of her babysitting me, taking me to preschool and elementary school, and being incredibly caring loving to me.

My memories of the house start when I am about six years old. I can still remember the original furniture and configuration of the house. Grammy, being an interior decorator, was always changing the order of things. It became a tradition, every time we came to the house, the furniture would be unrecognizable, but it still maintained its homey qualities. The exterior of the house was covered with Christmas lights in all possible locations that could be reached by our parents. Grammy was tried to outdo herself every year. Although she could not hang the lights to her satisfaction, she had a very specific vision for us to follow.

I grew up always seeing conflict, whether that was my parents against my older siblings or my siblings against each other. It was exhausting and as I grew older I too became part of the conflict with my siblings or my parents. I never felt like my house was my home. Do not take this the wrong way, I love my family very much. It’s just that the conflict I was always seeing, hearing, or being a part of deterred me from having that ‘homey’ feeling that one gets when they just relax on the couch in the living room watching Tv. When I first met my boyfriend’s (his name is Brandon by the way) Grandmother I immediately felt like I knew her. We both had difficult family lives in certain ways so we empathized with each other and this made us more close with each other. I grew to love her as my own grandmother, and considered her as such. It felt like I never had one because my grandmother had stopped coming around after my grandfather passed because we are not blood related. So I look forward to visiting his grandmother's house. It is very quaint and content.

Something I believe that has been memorable in my life was losing my great grandma and remembering all the things she taught me. Almost all of my favorite child hood memories were with her. Aside from the fun and games though, she could be stern and hard on my brother and me. When I was younger, I didn’t understand it, but now, I realize that at the time in which she grew up her environment made her that way. My great grandma, grew up in the forties, times were hard money wise and obviously, that put some pressure on her parents.

I close the car door and step onto the snow covered pavement. The dogs bark inside of my aunt’s house, and my family and I walk in. I am greeted by my aunts, uncles, and grandma on my dad’s side. My cousins, who are much older than me, sit in the living room enjoying the store bought peanuts, popcorn, and trail mix. I make my way past the crowded kitchen and settle on the stained couch. “Yeti”, the classic Christmas SYFY movie, plays on the TV. Unique ornaments cover the Christmas tree, while the dim Christmas lights reveal the dust that lingers on the worn out wooden floor. Before I know it, Lena and Hanse, my aunt’s two boxers, jump on my lap. They lick, drool, and nibble on me with excitement. I pet the dogs, but gently push them onto my sister. Brianne rolls her eyes, and nudges the dogs onto the floor. My grandma rests on the old rocking chair, laughing at the chaos. My aunt Bev sits on the couch beside my grandma. Both are dressed in Christmas sweaters, and have freshly permed hair. It is hard to keep a conversation with them because they both struggle with hearing. Trying to pay attention to the predictable show, my stomach growls; however, the smells that drift into the living room from the kitchen are not appetizing. Therefore, I take a small bowl of popcorn and trail mix.

One day we went on a plane and flew all the way to Mexico, my Mexico Lindo. The place where there are birds chirping when you walk by or the bumpy roads when you drive by or even the plaza where you can hang out and talk with friends. My family, including my sister, mom, grandma, and my auntie went to our first stop which was to eat some food. We all sat at a long table with the driver that picked us up to eat some enchiladas, some chocomil (Chocolate milk), and carne con chile. MMM, it was delicious because of how the cook had warm fluffy tortillas made from hand, spicy, yet sweet that would make your mouth water. Couple days past and we end up where my grandmother grew up in Cuquio, Jalisco, Mexico. Since I was little my grandmother would take care of me which that's what made me have a very loving strong bond with her. I call her Nina because in Mexico that's how you say grandmother, but nowadays it's for godmother (my grandma is also my godmother).

Perhaps it 's the beloved memories that live in this house that make it so special? Or maybe it 's because this is where my grandparents raised their entire family and grew old together, allowing this home to stay in the family for a little over thirty years. It 's not exactly extravagant, in a materialistic sense, but precious due to the sentimental value it holds. This isn 't just grandma and grandpa 's house, this is a place where my siblings and I were free to run around as children and wouldn 't suffer any consequences. This home is where we would walk to after school, awaiting our freshly baked snacks and fresh beverages. There were even days when our grandfather would tell us stories about him traveling the U.S and Europe, having his guitar as his only possession at the time. Not to mention all the thrilling tales of his time during the Vietnam war. Besides my family’s history in this home, by

Christmas night is my favorite memory. It was our last night all together as a family. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and my cousin’s baby whom was named after my Grandpa Jim were all together for the last time. Before going to the hospital, my family (minus Grandma and Grandpa) went to the Christmas eve service. It was different going to the Christmas Eve service in Sioux Falls, it seemed lonelier—something was missing, my heart felt empty. After going to church, our