My Heartbeat

My earliest memories about my grandmother.

Photo courtesy of the author.

They say people come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. Is it possible for a person to come into another’s for all three categories?

I believe so, and there was one person who did in my life. She is my maternal grandmother Mazie Jones. Although I was her first grandchild through her marriage with my grandfather Samuel Jones, who I affectionately referred to as Granddaddy, I always called her as Mom. To my surprise, she or any other adult including my parents never corrected me. She felt more like my second mother to me from the unique bond we shared together. I cherished her company every chance I could do so.

My earliest childhood memories I can recall were the wonderful times I spent with Mom. I loved visiting my grandparents’ home in Yeadon, PA, especially on the weekends. I was fascinated by every inch of their residence from playing with imaginary friends downstairs in their basement and the alley that divided their house with their neighbors to looking through their World Book encyclopedia collection. She was an amazing cook where I tasted some of her favorite recipes like scrambled eggs and cheese and/or pancakes for breakfast and German chocolate cake for an afternoon snack.