Grandma’s Cottage

1-copy
My Sweet Grandmother ~ Elva Marie

My grandmother, Elva Bryant Allen, was my hero and my strength; I have often felt she was the only one who truly loved me unconditionally.  Her home and her love were always my safe haven.  Many years after she left this world, I decided to take her name.  After my divorce in 2002, I asked the judge if I could take her maiden name.  And today, I still proudly share this bond with my dear grandma.  Years ago I wrote this poem, and I decided to share it in this blog, for this week’s challenge was about love. 

2
Photo by Ksenia Makagonova

Grandma’s cottage was lovely.

Her little home was quaint and wonderful-

Just like the woman who once lived there.

Cozy – Comfortable – My home away from home.

Hugs were expected and given in return.

It was a cottage of love.

Yet, there was more-

The cottage was magical.

What spell still holds me there?

Outside – Large trees sheltered the home.

Leaves filtered sunlight and cast

lace like shadows on the old pavement.

Strawberries ran wild below one window;

Pansies and “Johnny-Jump-Ups” bloomed under the other.

Colorful hanging baskets dangled from the porch.

Many quiet times alone, Grandma and I talked

Together outside, sipping lemonade.

Oh sweet garden, just like me,

Do you miss her tender care?

Inside – Delightful smells filled each room.

The parlor was quite cozy with

Its overstuffed chairs.

Prized knick-knacks filled each corner.

Little room, do you miss her sentimental trinkets?

The yellow kitchen was large and bright.

The cheery old stove contained many little

compartments to hold her many pans.

Laughter always filled this room.

Do you miss the cozy sounds and wonderful smells?

Grandma’s lavender room smelled of roses and cream.

Picture of daughters and grandchildren

Covered her lovely walls.

Spending the night was always a joy

As we burrowed under downy covers.

Special talks lasted late into the night.

And Mornings began with more love and laughter.

In this room, Grandma kept her sewing machine.

I still hear its peaceful humming

Whenever she would sew.

Little room, do you miss her coming and going?

In all the world, there will ever be

A home like this again.

But in my heart and in my mind

The two embrace anew.

And in my dreams, I return

To this magical place.

And over and over, I find myself

Among cherished friends.

Comfort returns, memories flood when her face I see.

For nothing in this world compares to my grandmother’s home.

Save

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s