OOOOH Doggie I Smell Breakfast!
Never in the history of breakfast, has there been a better scrambled egg and sausage than what my Mamaw used to make. Each morning when I would hear her get out of her twin-sized, cloud-soft, welled-out, bed I would crawl out of Papaw's bed, and hop into her's before it lost it's warmth. I would lay there snuggled up, smelling that delicious breakfast, and the Icy Hot from the sheets, until she hollered, "Come eat!"
Papaw would already be dressed, hair combed and sipping coffee from his saucer. Mamaw would serve up the absolute best Dominecker eggs and store bought sausage. I've still never had better scrambled eggs.
There wasn't much conversation between them as they ate their breakfast from opposite ends of the oblong table. She sat close to the fridge and sink, he was closer to the door. I sat wherever I wanted, but usually as close to Papaw as I could get.
Summer time was full of memories with Papaw and Mamaw. Watermelon, fresh peaches, Chevy Impala and Vacation Bible School. I went to two every summer. Mamaw was Baptist to the core, and Papaw was Church of Christ. I loved them both and I loved both their churches. Papaw walked back and forth to his Sunday morning service; it was just up the street. Mamaw was a prominent fixture in FBC so we got fancied up and drove to town to attend her church where she knew every single person there.
It's funny that I remember more about Mamaw and who she was with her church and fellowship than I do the actual services. Playing outside in the parking lot and drinking Kool-Aid during VBS is a vivid memory, but I don't even recall the inside of the building. However, Papaw's church brings a flood of memories. The inside of the sanctuary and the kind people. I don't remember their faces, but I haven't forgotten the feeling of being around them. They were all just like Papaw, and he was my favorite person in the whole wide world.
Of course, they didn't have musical instruments at the Church of Christ, but the voices came together so beautifully that they didn't need them. Their praises during worship were powerful and moving. I loved going to church with Papaw. I wish I would have done it more often.
After church, I loved being with Mamaw as she fried the chicken that Papaw had caught the day before, and watching through the kitchen window for Papaw as he slowly walked up the street, coming home from church. His slow, comfortable gait was one that I traveled alongside many miles down the old Oil roads around their home. We'd take the dog with us after supper in the glow of the setting sun.
Some evenings we'd sit in the swing and snap peas. What is it about snapping peas that's so calming? Maybe it was just the time. The day was just about over, time to sit and enjoy the massive oak trees that covered most of the yard with shade. The slow, rocking cadence of the swing would almost lull you to sleep as the consistent snap, snap, snap, plop, snap, snap, snap, plop, of the peas would sing along with the crickets.
Once the peas were snapped it was time for "the bath". Mamaw would say, "Let's get in tha bath." She had her own bathroom with a huge tub, vanity and PINK everywhere. I'd splash around and play with the pretties on the tray that sat across the tub. When it was time to get out, she'd wrap me in a semi-crunchy-summer-air-dried towel. I'd dry off and she would dust me with flower-dy smelling powder and feed me a square cut peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a big glass of cold milk.
Getting in to the soft bed at night, I'd get Papaw to let me sleep on his side of the bed so I could feel the summer air come through the open window. Mamaw would slather the Icy Hot on her knees and we'd all be snoring soon.
Summer breezes, oil top roads, natural gas wafting in the air. Fried chicken, fresh peaches, switches from the tree and cold water from an old orange juice jar. Musty garages, finding army men in the sandy garden, Captian Kangaroo and fancy couches you weren't allowed to touch. Potatoes under the house, long drives down country roads...probably to give Mamaw a break...I loved the smell of the Post Office and the sound of the mailbox door shutting as Papaw checked the mail.
Mamaw doing cross-stitch and Papaw with his dog.
Looking back, it's funny how much I remember about them. They made an impact on me. Why? Probably because I loved them so much. I adored my Papaw and I loved my Mamaw just like she was. She was a strong lady. I say lady, because that's what she was. She wasn't just a woman, she was a true lady. Mamaw was matter-of-fact, but she was also kind and generous. She loved to feed people and fellowship. That woman loved her church, her family and her Lord. I knew it. Everyone knew it. It was written all over her face. She was radiant.
Papaw was quiet. Khaki pants and roper boots every day. Usually a button up long sleeved shirt with a ribbed shirt underneath. Sometimes he smelled like sweat, but I didn't care. He'd pull me in that wagon for hours, and let me sit in the steering wheel until I was too big. Then I sat in his lap as he let me drive around.
Memories with them flood my mind and make my heart happy. I'm grateful for those memories. My Mamaw and Papaw took me home with them when I was six weeks old. I don't know how long I was with them at that time, but 9 years of summers wasn't enough of Papaw for me. He's the first one I'll seek out when I get to Heaven! Mamaw lived to over 100. When she asked why she was still here, I just told her that God hadn't finished her mansion yet. I can hardly wait to see it! ...I wonder how pink it'll be.
