The bus stop was at the end of our driveway throughout elementary school.
The bus would stop, pick us up, make a left, and head down to the other cul-de-sacs to pick up more kids, and then circle back around, back past our house, and head to school. My grandmother often came over in the mornings to help get us ready and on the bus, so my mom could go to work. I don't remember specifically, but I'm pretty sure most mornings we weren't complete jerks to get ready and out the door. But I do remember one morning when the term "jerk" would have been properly used towards me.
I was in Kindergarten actually, and for some reason, this morning - I was being extra difficult.
It could have been an unfortunate clothing meltdown, or me just being pokey, or probably - I was just being a jerk - but I wasn't getting on the bus. I flat out refused. My poor grandmother probably begged and pleaded with me to get on the bus because Lord knows she probably needed a very big break from me to balance out the more than stressful morning I was serving up. But no such luck.
The bus stopped at our driveway, picked up the nice and compliant kids, and took the left up the hill for more stops. Somehow, she managed to get me out the door, and tried with every ounce of energy to get me to go stand on the other corner so I could get picked up as the bus rolled back by. While that does sound quite logical, five year old's well, aren't very logical. The thought of the bus having to make an extra stop just for me was completely and utterly traumatizing. There was absolutely no way I was going to stand there by myself, get on that bus by myself, and have all 30 sets of eyeballs staring at me as I got on that bus by myself. That would be entirely too embarrassing, and I wasn't about that.
So to avoid that awkward circumstance, the only logical thing left to do was...to run. away. And in five year old talk - "run away" means to go run and hide behind your house...
So I did.
I ran away behind the house.
This genius plan was going to stall long enough for the bus to make those last few stops, circle back by our house, and head to school, forcing my grandmother to drive me to school (or best circumstance - let me stay home!) so I could avoid the traumatizing extra stop, all eyes on me situation that I wasn't about.
While, I thought I was in the clear behind the house for all of probably 3 minutes - but at the time felt like I had ran away for no less than 10 minutes - my grandmother comes barreling around the backyard fence, with a neighbor recruit to help reel me back to the house. I literally tried to burst away one more time before I was captured against my will, but my efforts were not good enough. My grandmother walked me back around the fence, down the hill, onto the driveway where she had the bus driver actually STOP AND WAIT for me to get on that bus.
So while I thought I was being smooth and avoiding such a traumatic experience altogether, my grandmother in fact, was ten steps ahead of me, refusing to put up with my five year old crap, and forced me on that bus regardless. Instead of waiting nicely at the corner like I was first told, and getting on the bus like I should have - and really, the 30 sets of eyeballs would have cared less about little old me delaying their ride to school - I had the the entire bus watching me make my walk of shame with my grandmother around our house, down the driveway, across the street, and onto the bus which had probably been waiting for me for awhile. Thanks, Nannie.
I share this story because that woman always put up with my crap and still loved me unconditionally.
She still made us batches of cookies weekly in high school - Snickerdoodle for Whitney + chocolate chip for me - she took us shopping for back to school clothes and supplies, sewed up any rips or holes in any of our clothes, took us to Krystal for lunch when we were home sick from school, spent hours with us in Borders buying books, played board games with us regularly, taught us so many things about cooking and baking, packed up tote after tote of Barbies, Cabbage Patch Kids, and Polly Pockets to her house for us to play with while she made dinner. She did all of these things out of love. Always.
The end of 2017 was the most difficult we've experienced in awhile.
My grandmother might have been 91 years old, but you wouldn't have known it by looking at her.
She was just as feisty as ever, and was so independent. In fact, we all were betting she would make it to at least 98. She was rockin'.
However, it seems like this has been my phrase of the year - our plan isn't always His plan.
After being very sick and quite honestly, suffering, for a little over two weeks, we lost my grandmother five days before Christmas.
Selfishly, I want more time with her.
More trips to Hobby Lobby and "Crapper Barrels" as she would say.
More times when I could just pack up Harper on a day off, head to her house with lunch and spend the afternoon. More Eskimo kisses, more times to hold her hand, more hugs, and more laughs.
While I don't have those opportunities anymore, I do have the incredible memories we've made together for the last almost 28 years. So many things remind me of you, make me think of you that I don't want to ever forget.
Your gold watch. Your white Keds - I have no idea how you kept those so clean. Your awful bang cutting skills - pictures from the 90's to prove it ;). Your funny sayings like "I bet you a nickle for a donut." Watching you work in your garden. Walks to go feed the horses down the road. Fried chicken and of course, porkchops. You ringing the bell to call us in for dinner as we played in the field outside of the house. The time you stopped in the middle of a busy intersection - not cool Nannie. All the times you let us dress you up and take your picture. Your biscuits. Your ability to touch hot things right out of the oven will always amaze and scare the crap out of me. How you were at every play or musical in school, graduations, and award ceremonies. The time I caught my sleeve on fire leaning over a candle, and used you to put it out without you knowing. All those times we spent the night with homemade popcorn and butter pecan ice cream in cones. The time you stayed home with me from school to teach me two-digit multiplication. Singing songs in the car as you drove us home. How you loved Harper more than anything, and always thought she was the smartest kid in the entire world.
And while I could go on forever, I will most certainly always remember one of our last few days together as just Nannie + Lauren. While I held your hand as you slept in the hospital, I couldn't help but think back to all of the times you stood by my side while I was sick to take care of me, the very least I could do was try and repay the favor. You opened your eyes, I smiled at you and told you I loved you. And like you always have for the past 28 years said, I love you too right back.
Our time together will never be enough, but I hope you know you were the best grandmother in the entire world. And I'd even bet a nickle for a donut on it.
