Grandma: Part 2 Frozen Doughnuts

Alone, without the discerning eye of my parents, Grandma and I would wander from her bedroom through the bathroom and into the guest bedroom. Not often used for sleeping, it was mostly storage. This room was just off of Grandma’s kitchen and though it was not as magical as the other rooms of Grandma’s house, it always held one special delight, intended just for me. Grandma shared my desire for frozen doughnuts.

Grandma and I rarely lingered in the guest bedroom and we never turned on the light. Instead, we used ambient light from the kitchen and carefully made our way across the room to the large chest freezer. That old freezer always hummed with a smug satisfaction sound that reminded me of old men in church.

The lid of the freezer was heavy because of the thick layer of ice lining the inside of it. The lid groaned and cracked when Grandma lifted it and I enjoyed watching the heavy cloud of smoke (condensation) that puffed up and then drifted silently towards the floor.

I jumped up and down waggling my hands as Grandma bent over, one arm stretched up high holding the freezer lid open, while the other reached into the darkness for our treat of frozen doughnuts.

The only time Grandma let me get my own doughnut from the freezer, I struggled to break the initial suction of the freezer lit and then shoved with all my might to make the lid swing high enough to stay open on its own. I held my breath in anticipation as it slowly swung upward on its large heavy hinges. As soon as the lid stopped moving, I jumped up, balancing by my tummy on the frozen rim and leaned in to grab one of the doughnuts on the plate - and promptly fell in. Grandma immediately lifted me from the frozen cave and laughing with me, she reached in and got the plate of doughnuts.

Grandma and I then sat at her metal kitchen table to eat our doughnuts. As I slowly breathed on my doughnut to watch the frozen air puff up and away, Grandma poured us each a cup of tea. As she stirred in a spoonful of her famous va renya (German name for sour cherries cooked with sugar to syrup), I contemplated the rest of the day – it was always full of history that I knew simply as Grandma’s love for me.


Next: Grandma's garden