Grandma's

We always go to grandma’s house
On Sundays for our lunch. 
Nine cousins eating frosting bread—
We are a crazy bunch. 
Play hide and seek and ring the bell,
Get candy when we go. 
And that’s what grandma’s means to me
Since I am just a girl. 

We’re older now—we cut the bread
And serve the meatball soup,
Sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to each one,
And ‘May the Lord Bless You.’
And grandpa’s steady voice rings out
With every song we sing. 
Yes, that’s what grandma’s means to me
Since I am now a teen. 

It’s different now—there’s less of us
Who come for Sunday meals. 
But still when strangers come they say
That ‘home’ is how this feels. 
And now my children play downstairs
With cousins dear to them. 
And that’s what grandma’s means to me
Since I’ve become a mom. 

I see it now, that grandma’s house
Means more than soup to me. 
It stands for love and fun and care
And hospitality. 
A place where any can belong,
And though those meals are done,
The things that grandma’s mean to me
Are things we’ll carry on.

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Image is of my Grandma’s home on the day of our last Sunday lunch there before they moved.