Moments

If you know me then you know I am very close with my maternal grandparents. Everyone in my family (and some friends) call them Grammy and Grampy. We’ve always called them that and I will not be calling them anything different. Yes I am 29 going on 30 don’t even worry about it. I am so close to Grammy and Grampy because we’ve been through a lot together. I used to spend my summers with them. From when I was practically born to the summer before I graduated from college. I also lived with them for a little. We’ve had a lot of great moments and we’ve also had a lot of...not so great moments. Like the time Grammy said I was a “woman of the night” because I dyed my hair blonde. Or the time Grampy would sit up and wait for me to come home from my second job because he didn’t trust I’d stick to his curfew. Oh, and who could forget the time Grammy heavily insisted I should go to church to repent my sins? We’re very different people, my grandparents and I. We also love each other so dearly that everything else seems to not matter. The fights we had, the arguments we got into. None of it matters because at the end of the day we know we would do anything for each other. 

In the summer of 2008, my mother and I were living in my grandparents house on Cape Cod.  I wanted to go to a day camp there and my mother loves the beach. Win, win. OH, and my grandparents get to spend time with their favorite grandkid (yeah, I said it). Win, win, win. I was in the oldest group at camp and it was becoming clear that the activities they had planned weren’t dazzling the pre-teens. We were a wonderful group of people, we just didn’t want to go swimming in a pond with 2nd graders. So, the camp arranged a way we could get out of their hair and help others. Every day, in the morning, we would walk over to the local high school and tutor some kids who were attending summer school. They were younger kids who just needed some extra time with their school work. After tutoring, we’d walk back to camp and at that point it’d be pretty much time for us to leave camp. The walk was pretty long. I want to say 2 miles each way? It never felt long because we talked the whole time. It was really freakin’ sweet. I loved helping those kids.

One morning, I was feeling particularly pre-teenish and didn’t want to interact with anyone. Especially if they were *barf* an adult. I was rushing out of the door so I could get to camp and wasn’t listening to a word anyone was saying to me. Grammy was saying things about whatever. Grampy was also going on about something. My mom was going off about it too. Who knows? Who CARES! I grabbed my bag for camp and was about to go out the door when I heard someone mention cake. I turned around and asked what they were talking about. Grammy let me know they were going to be making zucchini cake with all the zucchinis Grampy grew in his garden. She then proceeded to show me the biggest zucchini I have ever seen in my entire life. Seriously, it was the length of my mom’s arm. I don’t wanna say my arm because I’m short and that will ruin the story. A cake made of vegetables? Gag. This wasn’t worth my time. So I walked out the door. 

I walked to camp. I walked to school. I walked back to camp. I walked home. As soon as I entered the house, all eyes were on me. Grammy started giggling as she talked to me. “So sweetie, did you”, pause for laughter, “have a good day?”. Mom’s turn. “Yeah Holly,”, laugh, laugh, laugh, “how was camp?”. Followed by more giggles. “Uh, yeah? Camp was fine.” I said as I stared at them with confusion. Adults are so weird. Grampy made a face. “You didn’t notice anything different about today?” He asked. “No?”. “You didn’t feel different?” Grammy inquired. “Not at all?”. My mother grabbed my backpack off the floor and opened it. She dug around for a couple of seconds before pulling out the second biggest zucchini I have ever seen in my life. Seriously, it was almost as long as her arm. “You didn’t notice THIS?” She cried as she held up the zucchini. They all begin to laugh. And laugh. My mom pointed to Grammy, “It was her idea!”. I just got punked. I just got punked by Grammy. 

There are so many, many stories I could tell about Grammy and Grampy. A lot of them are about the things they said that really hurt me. But those aren’t the main things I want to remember them by. I want to remember the good times as well. The time Grampy drove all the way to New York City to watch me perform even though the drive was tough for him. The time Grammy sewed a dress for me to wear to my First Communion with real rose petals she weaved into the tulle. Oh, and who can forget the time Grammy apologized to me for heavily insisting I go to church and repent? I wanted to tell the story of the greatest prank Grammy pulled on me because it reminds me of how fun she is. We are not our worst moments. Not my grandparents, not my mom, not me, and not you.