Moi, that was a really really nice story. I could picture myself pulled up in front of you, sitting on the fireplace hearth, the reflection of the flames dancing on your face. I could almost taste your grandmother's wonderful chicken soup -- the hearty version!

*hands Moi a tissue* Here, now BLOW! *pats Moi's back* There, you feel bettah now, don'tcha?

*wanders off to make chicky soup*

thank you guys...

not sure why I was a bit emotional today. But I got a lot done.

But the crying was good...great, in fact...I think I cried out rest of my germs. LOL

((((()))))

PS, twinks, I'll be waiting for that chicken soup. I wish you and soxy and Alpho and everyone else could've tried it, with that bread...ahhhh...if I only know the recipes....my mom didn't inherit it...

we left when I was 10...the last time I saw her was when we were at the airport and she waving good bye to us...if I only had known that would've been the last time...

sorry, tearing up again....

well, I just had another thought that I just needed to let it out...If nobody minds, I think I'd like to post my memories about my grandma bits by bits here....nobody has to read it...LOL just for me....to get the thoughts out...


one of the fun things to visit my grandma was her farm.

One of my uncles helped her ran it before he passed away.

during a few of our visits, he would have to go into town to do some business and would bring his wagon/trailer that was pulled by a mule and sometimes a buffalo. LOL

the buffalo was really really well trained and we loved to pet it. It had a big ring through its nose and it had very soulful eyes that always seemed to have tears that always seemed to wink at us.

The road to the city was not paved but of mud and sometimes gravel and sometimes a mixture of both.

One can see the wheel tracks to and from and the hoof prints of the animals that pulled it.

My cousins(and sometimes my brother) and I would ride in the back of the trailer with our tiny feet hanging down from the end and listen to the buffalo pulling the wagon making the "te ta...te ta..." sound with its hooves. The wheel wasn't greased too well but would chime along with the walk of the buffalo...kinda like two percussion instruments complimenting one another.

It would be a pretty bumpy ride and our butts would get sore but all that was forgotten because all kids seem to have something to talk about forever and forever...

to the sides would be fields of rice, or some kind of grain or sugar canes.

My uncle shared one of those sugar cane farms.

If we were good in town, on our way back and when we'd pass his farm, he would take out his sickle and cut one of his canes for us and split it between my cousin and me.

We would then spend the next couple of hours sitting in the back of the trailer and trying to peel the skin off of the sugar cane with our teeth and chewing the sugar cane with juices dripping all over us while the sunsets over us and the fields to the beat of the hooves and wheels....

"te ta....te ta....te ta....."

*typing this with a tear and a smile....