Lunch With Nan

When the lunch bell rang, I would run to her house, just down the street, boots flying, as fast as I could go.

Nan would help me off with my coat and shoooosh me into the kitchen. Where the table would be set for me - just so.

There would be a grilled cheese sandwich and creamy hot Campbell’s tomato soup - that felt like love in your belly - the transcendent duo of the young.

Cheesy, gooey, crunchy, savoury, salty, tangy, buttery goodness balancing with that hearty tomato flavor on your tongue.

The secret to getting them so perfect - was to use her homemade red pepper jelly on the inside and lots of butter and a bit mayo on the outside - she would say.

Topped off with a glass of milk and Nan’s homemade chocolate peanut fudge cookies. It was the toe curling, heavenly, blissful part of my day.

She would drink her tea, while I ate and we would watch cartoons together on her old portable TV.

My nan had a big laugh. She would always laugh, louder than me.

When I was done, she would give me a big hug. She always smelled of roses and Nivea face cream. Then we would say good-bye.

She would tell me to hurry and not be late. I would turn to go, shoulders slumping with a sigh.

Then brighten and say, “See you tomorrow!”