My Granny

She was tough, my granny. She survived two husbands, ran her own small business by herself, cooked for her sons and their wives and children on Sundays, went to church every week and spent time with me. She was my favorite person. And she was killer at Canasta.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “my granny.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

2 thoughts on “My Granny”

  1. At the very beginning, it would do the memories of my grandmother a whole world of justice by knowing that I was brought up by my grand parents.
    As with all journeys ,I take the liberty of thinking that my journey was special.
    So far as special goes, it doesn’t even begin to cover her. Clad in a white blue bordered sari(almost like the Missionaries of charity), she would flit around, from one place to another, lending an ear here, a helping hand there.She was addicted to supari(betel nut). Her clothes would smell of cloves and supari. Even now, nearly twenty years since her having passed away, the smell of cloves brings tears and memories flooding back.
    In keeping with the spirit of all great leaders she was a path breaker, a pioneer of sorts. In a world where girls were married off at the age of 13+, where girls going to college was deemed synonymous with promiscuity ,she put her foot down and gave all three of us sisters decent college education. The fact that these very girls brought home doctorates from reputed universities, domestic and foreign, and the fact that today i sit here blogging about this diminutive lady, is a befitting tribute to her great and progressive convictions.

  2. I remember my granny as a kind, loving and gentle soul. She reminded me of a mother hen as she looked over her grandchildren when under her care, and there were seven of us always getting into some kind of mischief. She always made sure we’d eat, were dressed in the proper clothes, assisted with our daily baths, listened to our babbling stories while sitting on her lap and tucked us into bed at night. But most of all, she was our most fervent protector, and we loved her.

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