My favorite grandma我最愛(ài)的奶奶

We had moved from Cairo to Mt. Vernon, Illinois, away from my grandmother when I was eight years old. I missed her terribly. I was told I was her favorite grandchild; she was my favorite “Granny.” She was my Father’s mother.
Two years later my mother and father separated and they were soon divorced. I felt as if my world was falling apart. My heart ached for that part of me that was slipping away. Mother must have sensed my longing, for she would take my little brother and me back to visit my Granny on occasions, even after the divorce.
I was always aware Granny loved us. It was something you could feel with your heart, even when your world was turned upside down.
She didn’t live in a fancy house or have expensive things, but I never noticed; I just knew she loved me and I loved her back.
We had lived, for a time, next door to her and grandpa in a duplex while my father was away during World War II.
Granny had never had very much in the way of money or material things. But it was the little things she gave me that had always mattered. Things like letting me dip my fingers in the sugar bowl, which was always sitting on her table or the coffee she let me sip from her cup. She allowed me to sit on top of her kitchen table as I partook of those privileges.
Granny took the time to explain the function of her weather vane, hanging on the wall, which predicted the upcoming weather. How that little wooden boy and girl knew what door to come out of, when it was going to rain, amazed me. But Granny understood.
She also had a vinegar cruet that sat high on a shelf that was beautiful, in my eyes; I asked if I could have it someday. It was given to me in a box after her funeral. She remembered; love is like that.
I used to spend a lot of time with Granny when we lived in Cairo, next door to her and grandpa, in the duplex. But times and things had changed. Grandpa had died; we lived a hundred miles away, and dad, her youngest son, my daddy, no longer lived with us. I didn’t get to see dad much, and I don’t know if Granny got to see him very often either. But, he was her son, and I knew she loved him. Love is like that; it can see past the pain.
Though she didn’t have much, neither did we, but she did something for my brother, Tommie and me. I will always remember; she saved her pennies in a glass jar. I am sure Granny could have used those pennies herself but she saved them to give us when we came to visit. Because I was the oldest I was in charge of dividing the pennies equally between my brother and me.
“One for you, one for me,” I would repeat until the jar was empty.
I don’t remember how much we collected on our visits, nor was the amount important. It was the idea that she remembered us, and cared about us, when we were away from her.
Those memories, of when I was a child, still give me warm fuzzy feelings on days that I need them. A Granny’s love stays with a grandchild, down through the years, even when that child becomes a grandma herself. I often wonder, after all those years, when I am lucky enough to find a penny lying on the ground somewhere, if it could possible be Granny tossing me pennies from heaven.
 八歲的時(shí)候，我們一家從開羅搬到了伊利諾斯州的弗農(nóng)山，從此遠(yuǎn)離了祖母。我非常想念她。大家說(shuō)我是她最疼愛(ài)的孫女，而她也是我最愛(ài)的奶奶。她，是爸爸的母親。
兩年后，爸爸媽媽分居，很快他們便離婚了。我覺(jué)得我的世界好像崩潰了。原本屬于我生活的一部分正在遠(yuǎn)去，這讓我心痛不已。媽媽一定感覺(jué)到了我的渴望，于是她時(shí)常帶我和弟弟去看奶奶，即使是在離婚之后。
我一直知道奶奶深愛(ài)著我們。即使在你的世界被徹底顛覆時(shí)，這種愛(ài)也是可以用心感受的到的。
她住的房子并不豪華，也沒(méi)有貴重的東西，但我從沒(méi)在意過(guò)這些，我只知道她愛(ài)我，而我也愛(ài)她。
曾經(jīng)有一段時(shí)間，我們和爺爺奶奶一起住在一棟復(fù)式公寓，當(dāng)時(shí)爸爸參加了二戰(zhàn)。
奶奶從來(lái)沒(méi)有很多錢，物質(zhì)上的東西也不多。但正是一些小事讓我記憶深刻。比如那只總是放在桌上的糖碗，她曾經(jīng)讓我把手指伸進(jìn)去蘸著吃，她還把自己的咖啡給我喝。這些時(shí)候，她都允許我坐在餐桌上。
奶奶耐心地向我解釋過(guò)天氣風(fēng)向標(biāo)的功能，它掛在墻上，用以預(yù)測(cè)未來(lái)的天氣。風(fēng)向標(biāo)上的木制小男孩和小女孩怎么知道從哪個(gè)門出來(lái)，什么時(shí)候會(huì)下雨，這些都讓我覺(jué)得驚奇。但是奶奶都懂。
她還有一個(gè)在我看來(lái)很漂亮的醋瓶，放在高高的架子上。我曾問(wèn)過(guò)她有一天能不能把這個(gè)瓶給我。在她的葬禮過(guò)后，這個(gè)瓶子被放在一個(gè)盒子里交給了我。她還記得我說(shuō)的話，愛(ài)就是這樣。
我們?cè)陂_羅的復(fù)式公寓跟爺爺奶奶住隔壁的時(shí)候，我經(jīng)常和奶奶呆在一起。但是時(shí)光飛逝，物是人非。爺爺去世了，我們住在一百英里之外，而爸爸——她最小的兒子——也不和我們住在一起了。我和爸爸見(jiàn)面不多，也不知道奶奶是不是經(jīng)常見(jiàn)他。但是，他是她的兒子，我知道她愛(ài)他。愛(ài)就是這樣，它能夠超越痛苦。
盡管她和我們一樣都不寬裕，但還是盡己所能地為我和弟弟湯米做些事情。我永遠(yuǎn)都會(huì)記得；她把零錢存放在一個(gè)玻璃罐中。我知道奶奶本可以花掉這些零錢，但是她卻總是把它們攢下來(lái)，在我們?nèi)タ赐�她的時(shí)候分給我們。我是姐姐，所以負(fù)責(zé)把這些零錢平分給弟弟和自己。
“一個(gè)給你，一個(gè)給我，”我一直重復(fù)這句話，直到罐子里的硬幣分完為止。
我記不得這些零錢我們總共拿過(guò)多少，其實(shí)數(shù)目并不重要。它是一份心意，表示我們不在奶奶身邊的時(shí)候，她還記掛著我們，關(guān)心著我們。
在需要愛(ài)的鼓勵(lì)的日子里，這些童年記憶還能給我溫暖的模糊的感覺(jué)。多年來(lái)，奶奶的愛(ài)一直跟隨著孫女，甚至直到孫女自己也做了奶奶。經(jīng)過(guò)這些年，每當(dāng)我運(yùn)氣好，發(fā)現(xiàn)地上躺著一枚硬幣時(shí)，我還常常會(huì)想，它或許是奶奶從天堂拋給我的。