Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…

Toasted marshmallows

1 Comment

My grandmother walked comfortably in her skin.  Skin that was stretched a little more horizontally than vertically.  Skin she donned in aproned dresses and comfortable shoes. 
She was tall to me when I was a child. Sturdy. Sure. I clung to her side, bashful and uneasy. We walked into Jerry’s Jack and Jill, the small grocery store near the end of Broadway. She picked a cart and began down the first aisle. I gripped the cart beside her hand. She stopped almost immediately.  “Ooooo….” I knew this sound – it meant she liked something she saw. She grabbed the plastic bag filled with toasted marshmallows. One of her favorites. “Grab those,” she said. I put a bag in the bottom of the cart. “No, up here.”  She placed them in the top part of the cart where a child would sit.  She opened the bag.  “Grandma!” I screamed. 
“What?” she asked.
“You can’t do that.” I claimed.
“Oh, it’s fine…”
“But it’s stealing.”
“I’m going to pay for them. It’s fine.”
“But -“
“Oh, they know me.”
We walked around the store. Filled the cart. Past workers and shoppers in aisle. “Oh, hi, Elsie!” I heard again and again, but no one said a word about the marshmallows that were disappearing from the cart.
We got to the check-out and the first thing she placed on the counter was the empty bag. The clerk gave her a wink and rang up the bag.  They did know her. Everything was fine.
It seemed so easy, so normal. And I Ioved the way her chubby frame glided like Ginger Rogers, backwards through this small town.  She made no selfies, no tweets, but she lived out loud. And people knew her.
Yes, this was a small town. But aren’t they all, really. If you back up and look at us, on this planet, as humans, we are specks, delightful specks, but all living in our small communities – be it Minneapolis, or Paris. How do we not know each other? We must know each other. Know ourselves. If we can do this, we can do better. Much better.
I surpassed my grandmother’s height years ago, but she is still so very tall to me.  Take a look around. It’s an amazing world, with amazing people. “OOOOOOOh!”  “Yes!”  If we can see it, see each other, everything’s going to be fine.

Author: jodihills

I am an author and an artist, originally from the US, now living, loving and creating in the south of France. I show my fine art throught the US and Europe, and sell my books, art and images throughout the world.

One thought on “Toasted marshmallows

  1. Thank you for bringing back good memories of a neat lady (my mother, your Gramma). The world needs more people like her.

Leave a Reply