I'm still in Florida with my mom and grandmother. I honestly have no desire to return home, though I miss my husband of course. He seems anxious for me to fly home, but they're getting snow up in New Jersey, it's cold and nobody has emailed me regarding my resume. Like I just feel as if I have nothing to return home to. Hubs is working, which is great, but I'm lonely and I'm loving not wearing a winter coat as well as catching up with my God father, aunt and cousins.
At the moment I'm at my aunt and uncle's and have finally gotten online for a few minutes -- I do miss the internet and seriously miss blogging. I miss commenting on your posts and responding to your comments.
Today my mom had to run an errand so it was up to me to get Grandma ready for the day. It was such a weird feeling, such a role reversal. [More about that here] It brought me back to my childhood when Grandma would help us get dressed and make me the most delicious scrambled eggs ever. She didn't remember those days which I knew she wouldn't, but I mentioned it any way.
Grandma's scrambled eggs were better than any other scrambled eggs I had ever had. They didn't have cheese, or veggies or meat in them. There weren't any herbs or spices or honestly anything special mixed in with the egg. It was seriously just a buttered pan with egg and milk. Grandma's scrambled eggs were never brown. I remember saying, "Don't make them brown, Grandma." Brown meant the way eggs get crispy when you leave them in one spot too long. You need to keep the eggs moving in the pan and keep an eye on them. I never liked my eggs runny -- still don't. She used just the right amount of milk, salt, pepper and butter.
Today, I scrambled one egg for her as best as I could. That egg looked just like Grandma used to make for me. Not brown. Not runny. Just perfect. She enjoyed it and complimented me. I felt sad. I showed her the clothing Mom picked out for her to wear today. I remembered her zipping me up and swatting my four-year-old bum lovingly. She would button my coat and pull my hood tight before we headed outside. Why does it feel so weird to be the one making sure Grandma's zipped, buttoned and ready for the world?
I hope some day someone is there to scramble me an egg and button me up. :(
Thanks for listening.