Sometimes it seems as if it were yesterday growing up in the late 1950s and early 60s. My brothers were quite a bit older than me. They were teenagers and had their own lives and friends. They didn’t want to be bothered by a little sister who wanted to tag along everywhere they went. My mom was pregnant with my little sister and was busy taking care of our family and home. Sometimes I felt very left out. I developed quite an imagination and created many friends. They were very real to me, and I kept company with them, but I craved human attention too.
I have always loved tea parties, especially with my grandmother. As a little girl, Mary Jane (my doll) and I would join grandma for an afternoon of tea and talk. I loved those times. As a little girl, I took them for granted, but as an adult, I miss them very much. I felt like a “big girl” back then. My grandmother talked to me like I was an adult. She would tell me about her day and always wanted to know what Mary Jane and I had been doing. We would sit at the dining room table near the old stove where the kettle sat on top. She would get out her mismatched teacups and set them before us on the lace tablecloth. She would pour the hot water from the kettle into the teapot and add a little ball-like thing hung from a small chain filled with loose tea. I later learned it was a loose tea strainer ball or a diffuser. I’m not sure I liked how grandma made tea. It was different than how my mom made it. My mom used a teabag that had a pretty red rose on it and it took less time and there wasn’t any loose tea in the bottom of the cup, as there was in grandma’s. And yet, there was something special about how grandma made it. It didn’t seem that the tea tasted better, but I loved watching her make it. Grandma had a quiet way about her in how she did things, and the ritual of making tea was one of them.
As the tea steeped in the teapot, encircled in roses, she set out three dessert plates for whatever sweet she had made that day. She didn’t use paper napkins or towels but real linen napkins. That made me feel like a grown-up. When the tea had finished steeping, she poured it into our teacups. I casually watched over Mary Jane, who sat on the chair next to me, making sure she wasn’t spilling things all over Grandma’s pretty lace tablecloth. I’m sure I probably admonished her a time or two throughout our tea party.
Mary Jane was a tall doll, although I didn’t think of her as a doll, she was my best friend. Mary Jane was tall enough to sit on a chair and still see over the table. She had moveable parts, and when I held her hand she walked along next to me. Another thing I loved about Mary Jane was that she never finished her cake or cookies. I finished them. I was taught early on that if we put food on our plates, we weren’t supposed to waste it, and of course, I never wanted Mary Jane to get into trouble by not finishing what was on her plate.
I remember one tea party after grandma had cleared away the dishes. I sat on the old brown sofa with the sparkly threads running through it while Mary Jane sat next to me. Grandma handed me a small package wrapped in brown paper tied with string. I was excited because I knew grandma didn’t have much money, so to be given a gift was a big thing. I opened it to reveal the most precious flannel doll blanket for Mary Jane. She had quilted the top in purple and white blocks, with ties on the top – it was beautiful. Mary Jane and I loved that little blanket, and the best part was grandma made it just for us – Mary Jane and I didn’t have to share it with anyone else.
Years later, I remember that day as if it were yesterday. I remember grandma’s hands, well-worn and wrinkled, kind hands that worked hard. Grandma had made a little girl’s day enchanting and precious, one that I have never forgotten. Every so often, I go into my blanket chest and pull out that little blanket that she had made. Yes, after all these years, I still have it. It’s well-worn but still intact. The colors are faded now, but the love I feel every time I look at it is immeasurable. The feel of that little doll blanket, softened with love and time in my hands, reminds me that real love never truly fades away.
Grandma gave me two gifts that day. She gave me the little flannel quilt, and she gave me the gift of her time. She gave of herself and spent time with a little girl and made her feel like she mattered. It’s no wonder that memory of her stands out in my mind. How does a child forget someone like that who takes time out of her busy day to make someone else feel special?
Every time I go into my blanket chest and pull out that little quilt, I gently rub my hand across it, remembering that day. Tears may be rolling down my face, but there is a smile upturned to catch them. That blanket chest is like a treasure chest. When I need to remember there is something good in this world, I open that chest to find those treasures stored away. Grandma gave me two gifts that day; the doll blanket and the gift of herself spending time with me.
Written by: Laurie Davis
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Lovely story.