The magic of Oatmeal

It’s a cold and damp Thursday, I checked the balance on my checking card and its a nice round number (0).. So I will resort to the magic of breakfast and be thankful there is still food in the house… I just don’t know how my Grandma did it raising nine kids.. I asked her one time, and she said they just made it thru one day at a time and sometimes she didn’t know if they would make it but she always prayed and God always made a way..and they always had a garden and the meat from the slaughter house that my Uncles brought home, even if it was just soup bones she would always make soup..I loved her soup, she always had a pot on the stove and it was always perfect..she even got me to eat scrambled eggs and squirrel brains and I hated eggs… She was a beautiful, kind and loving human being, she died in 2008, at the age of 94..I was still in Puerto Vallarta so I took candles to the Malecon and lit them in front of the ocean, and thanked God for giving her to me..I wasn’t home for her funeral I don’t think I could have beared seeing her not smiling at me. I planted a pink rose next to her and my Grandpas tombstone, he died when I was 4 years old, after that she was on her own forever a widow, never even talking to another man. One time a man from church came to see her and as soon as she saw him get out of his car she sent me out to tell him ” she only loved one man in her life and he was in heaven and she wouldn’t be interested in any other man in this world”.. You should have seen the look on his face…I was pretty convincing I guess.
She always bought me Orange Nehi pop at the laundromat, and ice cream cones after church. I loved her to death. They broke the mold when they made her and it was so beautiful…

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