Grandmother pushed my cuticles WAY
back with her shiny red fingernails,
so far it felt as if my nails might fall off
and I knew one day they would.
She told me stories of how Mom
rode in the Fiesta Flambeau parade,
waved to the mass of revelers, her silky
white gloves making figure eights
in the lighted night air.
Grandmother said one day I’d do the same
because I was a pretty princess, too.
Then she planted her hard-bristled brush
into my long goldilocks, ran it through
the tangle-knotted mess without hesitation,
nonplused by my grimace glaring through
the crystal clear mirror.
She just clacked those nails on the vanity,
sprayed White Shoulders in the musky air–
her breath a mix of nicotine and peppermint.
As I sat by Grandmother all prim and proper-like
(because that’s just what you did around her),
I wondered how I’d ever measure up when
all I really wanted was to bolt out the back door,
roll down their grassy hill over and over again.
*
Every summer my sister and I stayed (a week or two) with my grandparents who lived in San Antonio. I loved the fact that there was a hill in their backyard!
Prompt inspiration~ dVersePoets: Meeting the Bar~ Mining the Memory w/ Victoria
smiles…my grandma always smelled of cow stable and never combed my hair but hers in the evening, it was long – down to her hips and looked like a grey veil… ha…see.. my own memories come back…ouch on the part with the nail cuticles…and nicotine and peppermint breath made me smile
smiles…interesting…different texture to the story but expectations played havoc in my early life as well…and feeling like i could never live up to them…my gandmothers house was where i loved to go as well…so much adventure to be had in the hollow where she lived…
Love your memories and I think I would have preferred rolling down the hill too.
Never knew my grandparents as they had all ascended to a better place before my birth – I do wonder what they would have been like…
Anna
]
Cant beat time spent with grandparents, such lovely memories, most of the time. The prim and proper like is never fun, but rolling down hills was as good as it gets.
Oh man did this bring back memories! Yeah, I never took to being prim and proper when there was a tree to climb, a ditch to jump, a frog to catch – ha! Nicely done!
My maternal grandmother used to come and stay with us 2 weeks in the summer and 2 at Christmas/New Year, wherever in the world the British Army had sent us to live. I have lots of memories of her.
smiles reminds me of my grandma too, and of me dreaming escape. Well done!
I could smell the nicotine and peppermint. I like the struggle of the desires expressed by the grandmother and the granddaughter. It is also intesting to me that while she is sharing her dreams for her granddaughter to her granddaughter, she never notices that she is causing her pain (pulling n her hair, pushing her cuticles). Very compelling poem.
Lovely. Did you ride in the Fiesta Flambeau parade, waving white-gloved hands? I’m sure it doesn’t matter. You already did, many times I’m sure, as soon as your grandmother said you would. Dreamy.
No, I never did. Thanks.
Very vivid memory, Laurie. Ha, I hope that when my granddaughter is here she doesn’t dream of escape. I do my granddaughter’s fingernails but NEVER touch her cuticles. Sigh. I am sure your grandma thought she was doing the ‘right thing.’
Oh those hard bristle brushes…ouch! I hated it when my mother would brush my hair especially if she was angry… that did take me back… and yes rolling down hills would be much better fun…nice poem!
Lovely work–I always fled outside whenever I could also. Of course, with my wildness, the adults were usually happy to send me out! Great memories here.
oh those first two lines are telling. maybe yours was not a comfortable relationship but a distinct one and I can feel the love in a formal way that seems more akin to older generations. Remarking on a girl’s beauty used to be highly esteemed. I think we’ve learned to expand a bit as a culture on the diversity of our feminine gifts. Your poetry is proof of that. The grassy hill, most definitely!
Ooh, grandmas are good at teaching us to sit up and “for heavens sakes” chew with our mouths closed heh
Grandmas are full of prim and proper expectations, aren’t they ? ~ For me, it’s my mom who was pushing up my cuticles ~ Smiles ~
Crisp details. This reminds me of how much our sense of smell is tied in to memory. Loved it.
was your grandmother like the mom in Black Swan?
i had a great aunt who was all prim and proper and that’s all that was to her, so i understand.
for the thousandth time
MMMM I enjoy the details you remember: stories of mother, painted nails, brush, tangles, desire to measure up with an equal desire to run. Neat.
I was fortunate and have only pleasing memories of both grandmothers…can relate to wanting roll down grass hills over and over again, though
Love it! I wish I had memories of my grandmothers. One died before I was born and the other died when I was around 8. I can see you trying to be a little lady. I am with you. I would have been dying to roll down a hill.
sliding down the grassy slopes does sound like a great escape =)
It’s amazing, is it not, what we would all put up with, just to please a grandmother! Fine poem.
I love this very vividly painted vignette/memory of your life Laurie – I can picture both you and your grandmother (and your mother too, come to think of it) so clearly – especially those red nails!
http://seingrahamsays.wordpress.com/2013/02/07/little-brother/
Love this, Laurie ! I had a very proper Southern grandmother that loved to show her grandkids off but only when we were in our sunday best! K
Wonderful memory of the hill but grandma…some mixed feelings there. I’m sure she must have loved you a great deal.
Charming and vivid, great details- I can smell the smells and feel that hairbrush! k.
…sometime in the past i stay at grandma’s place to spend summer vacation… she would do a lot of stuffs like bathing me in… trimming my nails… etc… and i hate it… she would speak of deep tagalog words that i never understood… and i hate it… she would tell stories about my dad’s childhood and how grandpa courted her…and i hate it… but now i’m older and not pretty much visiting grandma nor spending a vacation at her lair…oh, i missed her… beautiful memories…smiles…
my fingernails and hair feel for you. I imagine that hill was quite a draw. I’m curious, did you ever get to roll down the hill?
Oh, yes… many, many times. They also had the coolest concrete ditch to play in…