Grandmothers in Big Cars

Last week at the mall I pulled into an empty stall in the icy parking lot. Behind me was an grey haired older woman parking a car much too large for her. I could barely see her head with the seat in the way. Maybe I should say trying to park, since she left her car several times to check her alignment before she was finally satisfied and turned off her engine. I didn't attempt to leave my vehicle as I watched her. I wasn't in a rush. I had only a salon appointment and several hours of pampering to look forward to that cold morning. I had time enough to indulge this tiny woman's whims. She was dressed warmly in a long coat with fur lined cuffs and collar. The large coat overwhelmed her. Then when I did exit my car, she waved me over with a gloved hand.

Surprised I ran carefully to her side at the bumper of her car. Then as she laid her gloved hand on my arm lightly, I began to understand her gestures, if not her words. The two of us had parked far from the main building and she wanted an escort over the icy stretch of parking lot ahead of us. I will not hazard a guess what her parking and re-parking said about her driving skills. All I knew was in that one moment when she took my arm I saw in her my Grandmother Gertie, and her sister my Great Aunt Gen. I was reminded of our walks together and of their familiar light touch on my arm. We chatted on the way to the door, her in broken English, me in gestures and nods about what we were doing there so early.

When I had been a little girl my Grandmother had lived with us and practically raised me. We walked on adventures everywhere. She held my hand as we crossed busy streets. I chattered the whole time we were out while she nodded and added the occasionally yes or no. Great Aunt Gen was the Grandma that took me to Disney Land and held my hand in the long lines for rides.

Then I grew up, and I didn’t need them to hold my hand crossing the street or for amusement park rides. Now instead they took my arm to hold them steady getting in and out of the car when we visited. Holding this woman’s arm and listening to her tell me about her day, made me wistful for my Grandmothers and my childhood walks with them.

The tiny woman and I parted ways at the doorway of the Mall and I was sorry I had to let go of her arm. I would have liked to spend more time with her. Time I really wanted to spend with women I’ve lost. Walking her across the parking lot made me feel good, like a Boy Scout earning a Merit Badge. I think she was the one who did me a favor that day by stretching out her arm though, not the other way around. She reminded me how good it felt to spend time with my Grandmothers. Time I wish I could have back.