The Cookie Song
My Grandma died today. She was very old and always wore a red sweater and kept her teeth in a glass next to her bed.
“Laura,” she would say, “we must go to the market today. Your daddy’s coming home and he’ll want roast chicken.”
“I’m Dani, Grandma,” I said. “Mom’s name is Laura.”
“Do you think we can walk that far?” I asked.
“Don’t be smart, miss,” she said, and then she’d search for her glasses, which were always on her face, the last place she thought to look.
She put on her coat and gloves. The gloves were on the wrong hands and I hoped her fingers would be warm. I got my coat on, too, but it was too late.
“Mother, where do you think you’re going?” Mom asked, but Grandma just looked at her as if she didn’t know who she was.
“Take your Grandmother into the den, Dani. Sesame Street is almost on,” Mom said. We took off our coats and I helped her get her gloves off.
I took Grandma’s hand and led her into the den to watch Big Bird and Grover and Oscar the Grouch. But our favorite was the Cookie Monster and we would sing the Cookie Song as loudly as we could.
“Me love cookies…”
One day, right before Sesame Street, I tried to find Grandma but she wasn’t in her room. I looked in the bathroom. No Grandma. I looked in the kitchen. No Grandma. I looked in the den. No Grandma.
Then I went into the living room. I could see her outside, standing in the middle of the front yard. It was late fall and most of the leaves were scattered on the ground like gold coins. Seven Canadian geese flew over her head.
I went outside. It was very cold and Grandma didn’t have on a coat. “Come on, Grandma, let’s go in,” I said while I pulled on her arm.
“Look, Laura,” she said. I looked, but I couldn’t see anything.
“I’m Dani, Grandma,” I said. “We better go in now. It’s very cold and we don’t have on our coats. We’re going to get in trouble.”
“Nonsense. Look at the snow,” she said. And she held out her arms, tipped her head way back and stuck out her tongue to catch the snowflakes. I looked up and saw the big white flakes beginning to fall.
What fun! I tipped my head back, stuck out my tongue and caught some, too. Grandma began to laugh. We were busy catching the icy little drops when my mother came to the door.
“What are you two doing out there? You’ll both catch your death of pneumonia! Get in this house! Dani, don’t I have enough to do without you encouraging her?”
Mom followed us into the house. “Honestly, Mother, can’t you act your age?” But Grandma just looked at her as if she didn’t know who she was.
I took Grandma’s hand and led her into the den. She and I sat down to watch Sesame Street, but we sang the Cookie Song very softly.
Another day, while Mom was cleaning the kitchen, I found Grandma in my parent’s room. She was trying on all of Mom’s clothes. There were shoes on the bed and dresses on the floor.
“I have to get ready, Laura. Your daddy’s taking me out dancing tonight.” She was wearing Mom’s new blue dress and red high heels and had on a pink scarf and Mom’s old straw hat.
“I’m Dani, Grandma. I don’t think you should do that,” I said, remembering the snowflakes. “We’ll get in trouble.”
“Nonsense! Here, you try this on and tell me what you think.” And she handed me Mom’s favorite silver evening gown and her purple hat with the long white feather. Grandma sat down at Mom’s makeup table and began putting bright red circles of rouge on her cheeks and orange lipstick around her mouth.
“Here, Laura, you need some color on your face, too. We both need to pay more attention to our appearance.” And she handed me the purple eye shadow and the red lipstick.
What fun! I put on the eye shadow and she put on the lipstick. Then we sprayed each other with perfume and patted on lots of powder. We were just putting on Mom’s necklaces and bracelets when Mom came into the bedroom.
“Mother! Dani! Look what you’ve done! I can’t turn my back for a minute. Dani, you know better. Now get out of those things this minute and wash that stuff off your face!” Then she took the jewelry out of Grandma’s hand.
“Honestly, Mother, can’t you act your age?” she said. But Grandma just looked at her as if she didn’t know who she was. We sang the Cookie Song loudly that day, but we closed the door to the den.
And one day, while Mom was doing the laundry, I went to look for Grandma and found her in the kitchen. She had out seven bowls, two spatulas, six wooden spoons, the flour, sugar and twelve eggs. There was flour in her hair and sugar on the counter and three eggs broken on the floor.
“Grandma, Sesame Street is going to start soon. We better go or we’re going to get in big trouble.”
“Laura, dear, give me a hand. The girls are coming over for bridge and I want to make a chocolate cake.”
“I’m Dani, Grandma. We’d better not,” I said, remembering the day we got dressed up. “Mom’s going to be mad.”
“Nonsense. Get the chocolate syrup out of the refrigerator and start cracking these eggs.”
What fun! We cracked eggs and poured in a can of syrup and four cups of flour and two cups of sugar and spooned the brown goop into two round pans. And just before we were ready to put them into the oven to bake, I heard my mother in the doorway.
“Danielle! What are you doing now? How many times do I have to tell you to behave! I’m at the end of my rope, young lady! Now you get in the bathroom and wash up. Really mother! Can’t you act your age?” But Grandma just looked at her as if she didn’t know who she was.
Sesame Street didn’t have the Cookie Song that day, but Grandma and I sang it anyway, and when we were done, we sang it again.
That was the last adventure we had, Grandma and me. After that she started to act her age. She sat quietly and stared out the window. She looked at old pictures in our photo album and talked to herself. We still watched Sesame Street, but we didn’t sing the Cookie Song anymore. It was very quiet at our house.
And now she’s gone and it isn’t nearly as much fun. I miss her a lot, but I’ll always remember her when I see it snow, or get dressed up, or eat chocolate cake, or sing the Cookie Song.
Susan L Stewart writes for “Lit-up” and “The Writing Cooperative.” Her website is http://SusanLStewart.com
