Grievances Over Green Grapes

When Aunty C and I were little, we used to go stay the night with Grandma Soup. Her name was really Sue, but Aunty C always added that "p" at the end, and thusly, she became Grandma Soup. It's especially ironic because I don't recall ever having seen her eat soup even once, but I digress.

There are several instances where I can recall sitting at her light oak kitchen table with the blue floral cushions, a bowl of fresh green grapes in front of me as I colored princess pictures, getting slightly out of the lines JUST because I could while Grandpa read "the pixie book" a half dozen times.

As I colored and ate bunches and bunches of green grapes, Grandma Soup oooohed and aahhhhed over my drawings, making me feel as if I was a Picasso in training. The truth is, I still color outside of the lines, but now it's because I just suck at art unless it is in the form of music, not because I'm pushing the boundaries of conformity without even knowing what it means. In fact, I'm so terrible at art that my dad has a paint-by-numbers that I painted and framed for him for Father's Day....not when I was nine but when I was NINETEEN.

I think about these times often, especially as I cut up green grapes into small little bites for my 'Lil Bit. I smile as she requests more because she, too, loves the green grapes. Red just won't do. And then I take a step back and swallow hard, trying to supress the giant lump forming in my throat, for I miss my Grandma Soup and I wish that she were here. Sometimes I consider throwing the grapes and never allowing them into the house again.

I can just picture my own daughter, sitting at that same table coloring princess pictures and eating green grapes carefully chosen, washed, and placed in a green plastic bowl. 'Lil Bit is just starting to "comer" (that's how she says "color"). Right now, she doesn't even know what lines really are, but someday she will. Whether or not she colors in the lines and the reasons she does or doesn't is no matter. Although she'll never know Grandma Soup, she'll know what it's like to feel like a Picasso in training. The green grapes will always be there as long as she likes them, and I will always oooh and aahhh over her drawings, no matter how great or how not great they may be.