August 21, 2010

A Visit from my Grammom

Yesterday I was busy cooking lobster macaroni & cheese for our guests who were coming later in the day. Earlier in the day, I had been in the grocery store choosing my cheeses. I needed extra sharp cheddar and started reaching for the yellow block of cheese. Then something inside me stopped my hand and I grabbed the white cheese.

"Grammom always used the white cheese," I thought to myself.

I came home and was busy making several courses. I had my pasta boiling and had just drizzled some olive oil in the water. I placed the cap back on the olive oil that was on my counter several inches from the edge. I went back to shredding my cheese. I had a lot of cheese to shred and I forgot about my pasta that I only wanted to have boil for about six or seven minutes.

The girls were busy upstairs and no one else was in the house with me. No breeze blew through the kitchen, but all of a sudden the cap from the olive oil was hitting the floor far from the counter where the bottle sat. It didn't bounce straight either. It went on an angle and crossed the kitchen to where I was standing. I spun around and all at once, this wave of warmth washed through me.

"You don't want your pasta to be too soft!" I heard in my head. It was my Grammom's voice and suddenly I was surrounded by her. It was like she had walked right into my kitchen and put her arms around me. Instead of getting upset that she's physically gone, I smiled and turned off my pasta.

I know it sounds crazy, but yesterday my Grammom paid me a visit. And because of it, I know she's ok and that she's watching over me. At the very least, she's watching over my macaroni and cheese.