My heroine does laundry

Was chatting with my mom recently, and instead of talking about family members or her puppy's peculiar skin allergies or whether I would or would not use a coupon for Lysol spray, our conversation turned to my grandma, her mother. I remember Granny as something of a steel pixie, five whole feet of chuckle and tsk-tsk and fresh dinner rolls warm from the oven. But that was just a child-sized view of the whole woman.

Granny lived in an era of profound lack of self-pity. Didn't have time for that shit. She spent Mondays shoving laundry thrice through the wringer after dunking each piece in water of various heat levels. Tuesdays she ironed the stuff she'd washed and line-dried the day before. Wednesdays she baked all manner of fattening goodness, from scratch, and she canned stuff from the garden if it was ready. She cooked fried chicken from scratch, too, after raising, feeding, loving, and killing those chickens. Thursdays she waxed the wood floors. By hand.

She didn't drive, didn't have a car or a license, but she would carry her two preschoolers down to the bus stop, ride into town to purchase necessities, and then haul groceries and children back home. Makes me want to smack myself for complaining about carrying the bags in from the car after a grocery run, but whatever.

Fridays she leapt tall buildings in a single...wait, no, that was a different super hero. But it does bring me to my point. Strong female characters? I know one. I think a woman like this deserves to be novelized.

1 comment:

Jen Galbavy said...

I love this. And I couldn't agree more. I feel that way sometimes about my grandmother-in-law, whom I met as a sweet little round grandma and a cookie-baking dynamo. Then I learned more about her younger days, teaching school in inner-city Buffalo. She's like 2 feet tall, but an ass-kicker. Go, Grandma.