day 3 Rewrite Janeen Grandma Rogers

“If you tap on my living room window three times before you ring the doorbell, I will answer the door. If you don't I will think you are the Fuller Brush or Kirby Vacuum salesman or a Real Estate agent from Hong Kong. Dory shares the pass code only to those she wants to see. Her three daughters, Uncle Dave (who brings her treats) and the grandkids, make the list of the privileged few.

Richmond, a suburb of Vancouver became a highly sought after location for those leaving Hong Kong when the Chinese were regaining control.

“No use wasting my precise energy at 86yrs old for just anybody”. She says while reheating this morning’s English tea in a tiny battered aluminum pot. “I only use one tea bag a day. My old tea pot holds three cups. One in the morning, one at lunch and the last one at tea time.” She stands beside the stove swirling the golden liquid until it starts to puff out the dented goose neck spout.

“Grandma I’ll have a glass of water.” Being the third granddaughter I made the list.

“Ok, go get a glass.” She pours the last cup of the day into a chipped china cup that she brought with her from England, seventy-five years ago. The saucer doesn't match but it holds two tea biscuits just the same.

“One frigid Saskatchewan winter, when we traveled across Canada, we only had one tea bag per week. It was the Dirty Thrities. I feel pretty rich now using one per day.” Grandma settles her soft pillow-like body into the post war kitchen chair a few feet from the stove. I sit beside her at the little square arbright table.

“I can't reach up to that closet shelf.” She nods her head towards the short hallway. You’re tall Janeen, reach in back and pull out the hats. I used to throw them up there when Grandpa was alive. He would pull them down for me. I used to make hats. I even won a contest for the nicest hat at the Fraser Street Movie Theatre. Way back in the fifties when hats were very popular.”

Grandma was less than five feet tall but Grandpa was six foot three. He had swooped her off her tiny feet as a flamboyant Flaminco Dancer. She has just graduated from the Royal Academy Fashion and Design in England before she met my Grandfather in Ontario. I found her certificate of graduation in an aged travel truck above the garage/greenhouse while she was in the hospital recuperating from eight spider bites on her eye lid. It had fallen from the greenhouse door behind her glasses.

Funny how I never found out their early accomplishments until very late in my life.