Tell Me A Story

"Tell me a story, Grandma", she said. "Well,", thought the still mostly dark-haired woman, "how about a story about my mama?". "Ok.", was the eager response. "When my mama, your great-grandma, was a little girl they didn't have lots of toys. She played with sticks and leaves and pretended they were delicious food for her doll and her dishes were really shoe polish cans and their lids." These sounded like funny toys to a little one with several dolls, bears, and plastic dishes that indeed looked like dishes. Grandma told her more stories of days when her mother was young some 70 years ago. Stories of make-do toys, rag dolls, and hours of fun with her older sister. She told her about the blue house on the mountain with large double windows that swung open to the front porch and the eucalyptus trees on the edge of the yard. Grandma had asked the same question of great-grandma some 45 years ago herself. "Tell me a story, Mama. About when you were a little girl." She still loved those stories.