A green pasture was the only separation between Penny and her grandma. Dainty yellow flowers bounced on slender stems across the field. Penny ran happily through the clover, jumping over small dirt mounds and gopher holes. She was surprised and delighted when she came to a mud puddle. Quickly taking off her sandals she stepped gently into the middle of the puddle, pressing her feet deep in the mud. She liked the way the mud felt. Little flat dark brown curly ribbons came up between her toes. She made an imprint of her hand in the firm mud around the edges of the puddle to bring to her grandma. Lightly tapping her muddy feet in the water, she rinsed them before putting her sandals back on.
Penny easily climbed the five steps leading to her grandma’s front door. She sat down on the first step and removed her sandals, setting her hand print on the porch railing. When it was dry she would give it to her grandma.
“Hello, my sweet Penny. I’ve been waiting for you. How would you like to make some oatmeal cookies?”
“I love you, Grandma.” Penny put her seven year old hand into her grandma’s and they walked into the kitchen. Penny dragged the green step stool to the counter and climbed up.
“I’m almost as tall as you Grandma.”
“Yes, you are pumpkin.”
Penny’s grandma always smelled of cinnamon. Her long gray hair was twisted into a bun and sat high on her head. Her apron had flour dust across the front and didn’t quite wrap all the way around, so there were flour handprints on her blue house dress. Grandma always wore an apron and a house dress and always had a dish towel over her left shoulder. Her house always smelled of bread, or pies, or cookies. It was the best place in the world to be.
Grandma separated the cookie dough into two bowls. One bowl would have raisons and walnuts and the other would have only raisons. Penny carefully dropped the dough from a spoon onto the cookie sheet trying to make each one the same size. Her grandma whispered.
“It doesn’t matter if they aren’t perfect, they will taste delicious.”
Grandma poured two glasses of milk and she and Penny sat on the front porch eating warm cookies. Penny noticed her grandma’s large wrinkled hands. Blue veins showed through her thin skin. Her gold wedding band was worn thin from 50 years of wear. Penny set her cookie and milk on the table and crawled into her grandma’s lap. Rocking gently grandma held Penny close and sang sweet lullabies, the same songs she had sung to Penny’s mom, the same songs Penny would sing to her own children. Penny opened her sleepy eyes and looked across the field. Someone was walking toward them. Still nestled in her grandma’s arms she waited until the figure came into focus, then climbed down and stood with her grandma on the porch. Penny wrapped her arms around her grandma’s legs in a big hug, then ran down the steps into the field shouting.
“Mommy, we made cookies!”
Penny’s mom knelt down gathering her to her breast before picking her up and cradling Penny in her strong arms.
‘”Mommy, Grandma knows all our songs.”
Penny giggled as her mom snuggled her neck.
“Of course she does, my sweet.”
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