Dear Sweet Grandma

Dear sweet Grandma–always happy to see me
She makes me feel so good
She bakes cookies and cakes and pies
And makes all of my favorite foods

Her apron is worn from years of use
But it’s my favorite thing she wears
Yes she uses it for cooking and cleaning, of course!
But also to wipe our tears

Grandma taught me how to cook and knit and sew
When Momma didn’t have the time
She’s always been ready to try a craft
Or play any fun game of mine

Yes a trip to Grandma’s house is
Always a celebration, indeed!
She makes me feel like a VIP
And she caters to my every need.

She accepts my mistakes, overlooks my faults
Her patience–as wide as it is long
She’s full of advice and stories of her life
And always ready with a cheerful song

So why, dear Mom, do you say it’s bad
That I want to be just like her?
Why do you say that there’s bigger things
And I ought to strive for more?

Yes it’s nice that you’ve done so much with your job
And you’ve made some great money
You gave me gifts and trips and things
But I wish that you could just see

With just herself and her time and her love
Grandma provided for my every need
To feel I’m loved and needed and wanted
Is what truly makes me happy

So please don’t scowl. Don’t criticize or howl
Or try to pull me into your busy-style life
From what I’ve seen it’s not filled with joy
It’s filled with stress, disappointment and strife

No the thing for me is not a career
Outside of my happy home
What my soul aches for is a baby or four,
and a garden, complete with gnome

So if you look for me, you’ll know where I’ll be
with the one who holds real life knowledge
The kind that shares and loves and cares–
That you’ll never find in college

Don’t fear for me.  I’m happy and free,
My heart, it sure does purr
Yes I know true love when I see her face
And I’m going to be just like her.

–Holly Connors, #the50sHousewife



  1. My grandmother passed when I was 11, but I remember the fun we had back in Jersey! She took me shopping, taught me to play rummy, made “farina” for me at all hours, and was a total spit fire! Grams rocked!

  2. Holly, what a beautiful poem! My grandma was just the same for me. She passed late last year at 92. I plan to print this off and “give it to her” when I visit her gravesite next time. Several years ago I wrote her a letter trying to express how much she had meant to me in my life so this can be part 2.

  3. Hi Holly this is so touching. I remember being at Babci’s (Polish) side how excited I was to go through her house making up beds just so washing laundry in the kitchen sink then hanging it on the line to dry my grandpa’s black socks on the clothesline and her arms wrapped around me tight so I wouldn’t fall out the window. I remember the vacuum going over the shag rug in the living room and sweeping the porch with a big corn broom. Washing dishes the water was so hot it burned my hands but not Babci’s. Then her sister Lizzie would call and she’d put one foot up on a kitchen chair and talk a while on a brown rotary phone. She never sat down. She never stopped. I remember her sweeping her hand over the bathroom floor to clean it on hand and knee. I was so eager to help and do exactly as she did. Wonderful memories!!!

  4. This is so beautiful! I thought I was a career person, but after re- locating to a new country and a new language it seems I feel deeply settled inside when I take care of my family and work a day a week! I am judged by all around- but there is harmony with this setup and I learnt it from my grandmothers too! 😊

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