I’ve been thinking about my grandma this afternoon. The other day I cooked a fairly large roast and I had to use her roaster.  I just finished washing the lid and it made me think of her.

I thought it was kind of strange that she would have a big roaster, as she was not one to enjoy cooking a good hearty meal. Her idea of cooking was Kentucky Fried Chicken’s take-out window.  And back then it was Kentucky Fried Chicken and we liked it. I remember her cooking on big holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas.  She alone knew how to make the best stuffing in the world. It beats Stove Top hands down. For many years I was not a fan of stuffing at all, unless she made it. I remember it had apples in it, which is odd because I don’t care for apples in things other than my hand and apple pie or apple crisp.

Every summer I would spend two glorious weeks at her house. As a middle child…middle girl of three girls born 2.5 years apart (from oldest to youngest) this was heaven on earth. I had no older sister to boss me around and no younger sister with a decided bent on tattling.

I will never forget one day drinking some orange juice she had in the back of the refrigerator. When she arrived home from work and saw the empty juice pitcher in the sink, she looked positively ill. But had the wherewithal to ask if  I was feeling okay. I assured I was right as rain and she went on to tell me she had no idea how long the juice had been in the refrigerator.

Man did I have a nasty headache the next day.

Every day I spent with her that she worked, I would walk over with our lunch. She worked at the Arvada Public library, a treasure trove of books. Some afternoons I would spend the afternoon browsing the books and losing myself in one.

Those were my favorite days. I always hated when it was time to make the return trip and I had to live in reality once more. One year my uncle switched places with me. He spent the time at my house while I was at his house. I’m not sure I’ve ever really believed he did not come down with appendicitis on purpose. He cut my visit short.

My grandma passed away almost 7 years ago.  I still can’t believe it. There are so many things I want to ask her, so much I want to know.

The recipe for her stuffing is only the beginning.

Who has made a difference in your life? How have you made a difference in someone’s life?