Today was The Boy’s last day of his first year of preschool. Swimming lessons ended last Monday. Saturday gymnastics classes are done. The structure that accompanies the weeks of the school year (even at three years old!) has made way for frozen treats and later bedtimes. We’ve got some stuff on the schedule this summer so there won’t be any day camps or weekly lessons for The Boy. There is one standing appointment, however, that we intend to keep.
Tuesdays are for Gramma.
Every Tuesday, after work/the gym/Hot Yoga/whatever, four generations of my family gather at my uncle’s house, where my Gramma lives. (“I’m just a boarder!”-Gramma) There’s usually supper, occasionally a treat, and always knitting. It’s been going on for years, mostly while I lived away, but once we discovered Skype, The Boy and I started dropping in. Now that we’re living nearby, Tuesdays at Gramma’s are pretty sacred.
Tuesdays by the Numbers
Four: The number of rear ends that should fit on the couch. No stretching out. That’s what the floor is for.
Three: The minimum number of cans of D.C. you’d better bring up if you are going down to the beer fridge. (Lately we’ve all been off the artificial sweetener, so now it’s more like Club Soda.)
Seven: The typical number of people knitting at any given time.
Eleven: The average number of times Gramma will ask, “Do you knit?” if you are not, in fact, knitting.
Twenty: The number of stitches Gramma is supposed to have on her needles, in case she asks.
Forty: That’s how much you should charge for that cowl.
Countless: The number of zingers Gramma comes out with when everyone assumes she’s not paying attention.
Gramma repeats herself because she forgets. She knits the same twenty stitches back and forth because she can’t follow a pattern anymore. But she still knows when it’s Tuesday. Sometimes I’ll catch her talking to someone she doesn’t see often and she’ll say, “Oh, they all knit! They come over every Tuesday!” and I can tell she’s really happy that we do.
I will not pretend to know what it’s like to be nearing a hundred, to gradually lose grasp of people and things that used to be familiar. I don’t know if I would handle it with the same grace and humour that Gramma has, even though I really dig getting older so far. Gramma makes it look kind of fun. Sitting in a comfy chair, knitting all day, having your kids bring you supper and do your laundry? I’ll take it! I am looking very forward to the days when I can be as saucy as I want.
In the meantime, I count my blessings like stitches: I have a great family; I have a great Gramma; The Boy has a great Great Gramma who knows him and loves him. No matter how busy life gets, I always know where I’ll be come Tuesday night.
Tuesdays are for Gramma.