We were supposed to stay in the neighboring house, but it was still being repaired. Apparently, Grandpa's last tenants destroyed the place, kept animals in the house that peed and pooped all over the carpets. They were smokers too, which definitely didn't improve the overall smell of our little cottage. In the meantime, we stayed at Grandma and Grandpa's. The stairs seemed steep as we climbed our way up to the rooms. Peering back as we reached the top, I could see that there was a little loft area above the stairs where they kept suitcases. I always wanted to sit there, maybe make myself a little bed and sleep above the stairs. Straight ahead was the bathroom with a clawfoot tub. I'd never seen one of those before. Bathing in that tub made me feel like I was traveling back in time, possibly in some classic movie starring alongside Cary Grant. To the immediate left of the stairs was Grandpa's bedroom. It's the one Mom used while growing up. We weren't allowed to go in there. Grandpa's office was to the right of it; the office was always ice cold, his little black fan buzzing nonstop. I never understood why he had to have his office 10 degrees colder than the rest of the house. Minnesota weather definitely suited him. And right in-between Grandpa's office and the bathroom was my Aunt Sunny's old room, the room all of us were going to share. It was a bright color; I think it was peach.
As I continued to explore the upstairs, I couldn't help but notice that it smelled like dust and old people. I can't explain that smell, but I know that you know what I'm talking about. Spiderwebs hung in every room, unashamed spiders dripping from them. It was like some horror film, probably one they'd play on Halloween. I fled from the spider-infested upstairs and made my way to the kitchen. I walked through the piano room, where Grandma held her music lessons. There were shelves of books substituting walls that somewhat separated this room from the next. Mismatched chairs lined one side of the room; Grandma's students and parents sat in them during the lessons. One corner of the room was dedicated to toys, massive amount of toys and more books. A lot of the toys were old, probably ones that my mom used to play with. There was a castle and trucks and farm animals. There were dolls, not like the barbies I grew up with. These were small, fitting in the palm of my hand. They had yarn for hair, their wooden bodies browned from age and play. Grandma's piano took up most of the room. I had never seen a grand piano before. We had two upright ones in our old, Santaquin house. It was beautiful, the way it curved, the grooves in the legs. It was detailed with vines. It was old. There were chips in the wood and on the keys. I fell in love. Peering underneath, I could see boxes full of music and others with neglected toys.
The next room to walk through was the family room. There was an old TV against one wall with a VCR on top and rocking chairs near the opposite wall. My sisters and I would spend movie nights sitting in front of the TV with Grandma and Grandpa behind us in their chairs. Like the other room, the walls had shelves of books, several ceramic pots and instruments sitting on top. There was an open doorway to the kitchen. Looking to the right, the stove was full of stacked pots with different vegetables steaming. To the left was a little nook with a round table. Though the rest of the house seemed cluttered, this room was clean and open. This was where we would spend many nights laughing and eating.
This kitchen was where I would learn how to jar pickles. We would go to the farmer's market, we went there at least once a month, and pick out baby cucumbers. We picked bunches of dill from Grandma's garden and we would jar. We got to write our names on the jars so that when we opened it the next year, we knew that we were eating something we created. This was where we would learn that Grandpa likes having at least 4 vegetables as sides for dinner. He bought a ton of stacking pots so that he could steam them all at the same time. We learned what peasant bread is while at the table. Super hard, but really yummy bread. I'm surprised that I didn't lose any teeth trying to eat it. One night, I was determined and refused to back down as I tried to take a large bite out of the bread. I pulled hard with both hands, my teeth deep as I ground them in, and I won. But, so did the bread as my head flew back and hit the wall. I rubbed my fresh bruise as we laughed. This was where I would beat Grandpa in an eating contest. I ate 13 tacos. Surprisingly, Mom wasn't too proud. This was where we would eat our after-school snacks, often huge Great Harvest Market cookies that Grandpa would sneak to us after being scolded by Mom. This was where we would do our homework with Grandma sitting next to us, brainstorming for our projects. This was where I would learn how to peel and cut an apple while holding it in my hand. We learned how to properly set a table. The fork goes on the left; an easy way to remember is that 'fork' has 4 letters and so does the word, 'left'. The knife, spoon, and glass go on the right side of the plate. They all have 5 letters. We learned how to decorate the table with flowers from the garden. We learned how to sharpen kitchen knives. I made my first pound cake with Grandpa. We made many pies in the kitchen: cherry, apple, peach, rhubarb - freshly picked from Grandma's garden, and strawberry. I learned of Grandma's love for dish towels. She had many for each day of the week. She collected them. They were usually white with a beautiful image hand-sewn into the middle. One week it would be different puppies and the next week would be different colored flowers.
There was a window in the nook. Sitting at the table, you could peer outside into the backyard. You could see Grandma's 2 apple trees, her lilac bushes, and the old trampoline that had missing springs. It was so old that sometimes a spring would fly off while you jumped. It was scary! Grandma had a clothesline that she would use occasionally, even though she had a dryer. I think she just liked doing something that she used to do, something classic like hanging your clothes outside and letting them air dry. It took some getting used to, living in the house that Mom grew up in, playing in the yard that she had played in. I used to walk in Grandma's garden a lot. She had her own flower garden right next to the vegetables. Though her flower garden was organized, it looked wild, like something out of a prairie. The flowers looked like they would be the ones Willoughby picked for Marianne in Sense and Sensibility. It was romantic, like a place I would lay in to read books. There were Monarch butterflies everywhere and it smelled delicious.
I learned how to mow. I was thankful that Grandpa didn't make me drive a tractor; I was terrified from the stories Mom had told us. He had several lawn mowers that refused to start. It was somewhat embarrassing having to constantly yank the lawn mower while people drove by. So, you learned to not let go of the bar that kept the mower running, even if your hands were sore and you wanted a break. No breaks! I learned to not wear my best tennis shoes while mowing. I learned that rushing the mower showed. And, I learned that the one, small streak of grass that I missed would be noticed.
Grandma and Grandpa's cellar was basically a dark dungeon of death. The triple D! Every now and then, Grandma would have me open the kitchen door to grab something off of the cellar steps. Usually it was a jar of green beans. I would grab it as fast as I could and slam the door behind me, scared that something might happen to me while on the dark stairs. One day, I was feeling adventurous. I convinced Sarah to explore with me. So, we slowly crept down the stairs, extremely aware of the ascending cold and darkness that overwhelmed us. Once we reached the bottom step, we walked into a more open and naturally lit room. There were windows on one of the walls. There were shelves of jars everywhere. As we started to sigh relief, we noticed something that looked like bones on the ground. We stepped closer, eyes wide, grasping each other. I couldn't breathe. Suddenly, we both screamed. It was a small skeleton! We ran upstairs as fast as we could, scared that something might grab us at any moment. We told our grandparents about what we found, and, despite our fierce warning, Grandpa went downstairs to see what we were talking about. Thankfully, he came back alive! He explained that it's the skeleton of a rabbit that snuck in through one of the outside entrances to the cellar. Without food and water, it died down there. Even though I believed him, I never went down there again.
Mom was there as often as she could be. She was busy. It was a hard adjustment, not having her home. But, our days were filled with school, chores, and fun at the dinner table. I got used to quick spurts of time with Mom. She'd come and eat dinner with us. She'd see us occasionally after school for a couple of minutes. She'd kiss us goodnight, waking us up to do so if we were already asleep. Grandma and Grandpa started bringing us to a buffet every Friday. It was a fun outing and it meant that Grandma got a break from cooking. Sometimes, Mom would eat with us. I loved it when she would.
The next room to walk through was the family room. There was an old TV against one wall with a VCR on top and rocking chairs near the opposite wall. My sisters and I would spend movie nights sitting in front of the TV with Grandma and Grandpa behind us in their chairs. Like the other room, the walls had shelves of books, several ceramic pots and instruments sitting on top. There was an open doorway to the kitchen. Looking to the right, the stove was full of stacked pots with different vegetables steaming. To the left was a little nook with a round table. Though the rest of the house seemed cluttered, this room was clean and open. This was where we would spend many nights laughing and eating.
This kitchen was where I would learn how to jar pickles. We would go to the farmer's market, we went there at least once a month, and pick out baby cucumbers. We picked bunches of dill from Grandma's garden and we would jar. We got to write our names on the jars so that when we opened it the next year, we knew that we were eating something we created. This was where we would learn that Grandpa likes having at least 4 vegetables as sides for dinner. He bought a ton of stacking pots so that he could steam them all at the same time. We learned what peasant bread is while at the table. Super hard, but really yummy bread. I'm surprised that I didn't lose any teeth trying to eat it. One night, I was determined and refused to back down as I tried to take a large bite out of the bread. I pulled hard with both hands, my teeth deep as I ground them in, and I won. But, so did the bread as my head flew back and hit the wall. I rubbed my fresh bruise as we laughed. This was where I would beat Grandpa in an eating contest. I ate 13 tacos. Surprisingly, Mom wasn't too proud. This was where we would eat our after-school snacks, often huge Great Harvest Market cookies that Grandpa would sneak to us after being scolded by Mom. This was where we would do our homework with Grandma sitting next to us, brainstorming for our projects. This was where I would learn how to peel and cut an apple while holding it in my hand. We learned how to properly set a table. The fork goes on the left; an easy way to remember is that 'fork' has 4 letters and so does the word, 'left'. The knife, spoon, and glass go on the right side of the plate. They all have 5 letters. We learned how to decorate the table with flowers from the garden. We learned how to sharpen kitchen knives. I made my first pound cake with Grandpa. We made many pies in the kitchen: cherry, apple, peach, rhubarb - freshly picked from Grandma's garden, and strawberry. I learned of Grandma's love for dish towels. She had many for each day of the week. She collected them. They were usually white with a beautiful image hand-sewn into the middle. One week it would be different puppies and the next week would be different colored flowers.
There was a window in the nook. Sitting at the table, you could peer outside into the backyard. You could see Grandma's 2 apple trees, her lilac bushes, and the old trampoline that had missing springs. It was so old that sometimes a spring would fly off while you jumped. It was scary! Grandma had a clothesline that she would use occasionally, even though she had a dryer. I think she just liked doing something that she used to do, something classic like hanging your clothes outside and letting them air dry. It took some getting used to, living in the house that Mom grew up in, playing in the yard that she had played in. I used to walk in Grandma's garden a lot. She had her own flower garden right next to the vegetables. Though her flower garden was organized, it looked wild, like something out of a prairie. The flowers looked like they would be the ones Willoughby picked for Marianne in Sense and Sensibility. It was romantic, like a place I would lay in to read books. There were Monarch butterflies everywhere and it smelled delicious.
I learned how to mow. I was thankful that Grandpa didn't make me drive a tractor; I was terrified from the stories Mom had told us. He had several lawn mowers that refused to start. It was somewhat embarrassing having to constantly yank the lawn mower while people drove by. So, you learned to not let go of the bar that kept the mower running, even if your hands were sore and you wanted a break. No breaks! I learned to not wear my best tennis shoes while mowing. I learned that rushing the mower showed. And, I learned that the one, small streak of grass that I missed would be noticed.
Grandma and Grandpa's cellar was basically a dark dungeon of death. The triple D! Every now and then, Grandma would have me open the kitchen door to grab something off of the cellar steps. Usually it was a jar of green beans. I would grab it as fast as I could and slam the door behind me, scared that something might happen to me while on the dark stairs. One day, I was feeling adventurous. I convinced Sarah to explore with me. So, we slowly crept down the stairs, extremely aware of the ascending cold and darkness that overwhelmed us. Once we reached the bottom step, we walked into a more open and naturally lit room. There were windows on one of the walls. There were shelves of jars everywhere. As we started to sigh relief, we noticed something that looked like bones on the ground. We stepped closer, eyes wide, grasping each other. I couldn't breathe. Suddenly, we both screamed. It was a small skeleton! We ran upstairs as fast as we could, scared that something might grab us at any moment. We told our grandparents about what we found, and, despite our fierce warning, Grandpa went downstairs to see what we were talking about. Thankfully, he came back alive! He explained that it's the skeleton of a rabbit that snuck in through one of the outside entrances to the cellar. Without food and water, it died down there. Even though I believed him, I never went down there again.
Mom was there as often as she could be. She was busy. It was a hard adjustment, not having her home. But, our days were filled with school, chores, and fun at the dinner table. I got used to quick spurts of time with Mom. She'd come and eat dinner with us. She'd see us occasionally after school for a couple of minutes. She'd kiss us goodnight, waking us up to do so if we were already asleep. Grandma and Grandpa started bringing us to a buffet every Friday. It was a fun outing and it meant that Grandma got a break from cooking. Sometimes, Mom would eat with us. I loved it when she would.
When we first came to Grandma and Grandpa's house, we were broken. Our parents had just gone through a messy separation and divorce. We were confused and we were scared. We had never left the state of Utah before and we didn't want to leave. It felt odd to not have my dad or my brother, JD, with us. It was just the three girls and Mom in Minnesota. It was still a fresh feeling, having one parent instead of two. We weren't used to spending time with Grandma and Grandpa. We saw them sometimes on holidays, but we never spent time with only them. The holidays were filled with my aunts and uncles and cousins. And here, I was going to be spending every day with just Grandma and Grandpa.
