Hello again...it's been a while since I sat to collect my thoughts and put them in a blog. And even yet now, I haven't much time to write before I turn in for the night....so in an effort to keep from rambling I'll get right to it...
I have started my "summer reading list". You see I go through phases when I feel like I have enough time to sit and enjoy one of my favorite past times...reading. I started with a book my baby sister gave me to pass the time at my parent's cabin a couple of weekends ago. It's titled "The Firekeeper's Secrets". It is a collection of short stories and I enjoyed it very much. Yesterday I started a Francin Rivers (my absolute favorite author!) book, "Leota's Garden". I put a major dent in it today as I layed BY, not in, my pool for several hours this afternoon. It's about an elderly woman who, at 84, feels like there is nothing left to live for. She feels all alone in the world with only memories of past friends, estranged family and her long gone beautiful garden. I won't bore you with anymore of the plot, instead I'll encourage you to read it yourself. It has started off wonderful!
What I do want to do is tell you how it has made me reflect on my grandparents...especially my memama...the strength of the Hobbs family. She is an amazing woman. She raised my mother and her brothers and sisters (there are 5 all together) basically by herself. My grandfather died when my mother was only 8 years old. He was the owner of Hobbs Candy in Troy if you are from Troy and remember. What I remember most about my memama from when I was little is sitting on her kitchen counter and helping her make homemade biscuits. Man, nobody, and I mean NOBODY, makes homemade biscuits like Willie Mae Hobbs. Other memories I have of her are going to feed the ducks at the pond on Troy's campus, having Easter egg hunts at her house with my cousins, and going fishing... Just 2 weekends ago, we took her fishing at a pond in Needmore, AL. I was sitting with her as she fished and even in her eighties she was giving me pointers about how deep my line should be and the ever dreaded task of baiting the hook. I told her that I would sit with her but I would NOT put the cricket on the hook OR take the fish off. You should have seen us...we made quite a funny pair. She would get the cricket out of the bucket and hold it firm between her shaking fingers while I put the hook through the poor, squirmy creator. After watching her poor hand shake from old age, I finally began to get the cricket by myself and bait her hook. My heart broke for the cricket I was killing and the fact that my beloved grandmother can no longer bait her own hook... I cannot dwell on that thought for long or it will bring tears to my eyes.
Aren't grandmothers the best? I sure do love my precious memama!
