Grandma's Cookie Jars
Mason Myers
My relationship with my grandmother seemed to be like any other cliché story of a grandmother, spoiling their grandchild. Everything my mom said I couldn’t have my grandmother would always get me. This lasted for most of my life as my grandmother is always asking me if I am hungry and need money for food or if I need to go shopping. Every break I got growing up in school regardless if it was Christmas break or the entire summer, I would spend it at my grandmother’s house. This was always an interesting adventure because they live two hours away from Kansas City, way out in the middle of nowhere. Their house is exactly what you would see on the Wizard of Oz, my grandparents live happily, thirty minutes away from any civilization, down a gravel road surrounded by barbed wire fence. In the pasture next to their house cattle are constantly roaming near their property close enough for you to hear them breaking brush, at night coyotes sit less than fifty yards away constantly howling. Staying with my grandparents sometimes would be a bit spooky, living so far away from civilization my imagination of what could happen ran wild. Not only was there the combination of mysterious cars driving by and echoing sounds late at night. There was the collection of Raggedy Ann dolls that sat around the house, peering over the tops of bookshelves, bookshelves filled with an endless collection of antique cookie jars. These jars meant the world to my grandmother, there was always at least three giant bookshelves around her house, filled with cookie jars on display. These weren’t your regular cookie jars, each jar she chose would have a unique design ranging from superhero cookie jars to jars made to match her Raggedy Ann dolls. These jars were often not easy to come by, as she continued to stockpile more, she began buying the more rare and expensive jars. We would sit up until two o’clock in the morning watching Disney cartoons and the history channel kicked back on the connected recliners, or as she would call it a “loveseat”. I would sit as she would scroll through millions of cookie jars on eBay’s website. Each jar was so unique with their vibrant colors and many different themes I would be mesmerized watching her scroll. Several times throughout the night I would make my way to and from the kitchen, grabbing snacks and drinks for the two of us. My favorite snack was always the frosted oatmeal cookies, in which she kept in a cookie jar with the rest of the cookies. This was the only jar in the house allowed to have a cookie placed inside, and ironically it was the most basic jar in the entire house. Sitting front and center in the kitchen, which she viewed as her sanctuary. She had designed the kitchen herself and picked out all the colors for the cabinets and drawer handles. Everything about the kitchen was extravagant, except for the boring clear cookie jar.
Love.