My grandmother was a simple woman. She enjoyed simple pleasures. Scribble, Memory, word searches and Wheel of Fortune were fixtures in her home. As were bologna sandwiches. She was probably the last person to make me a bologna sandwich and I'm almost positive I haven't had one since. That's got to be at least 15 years ago. Searching my fridge today for something to make for my daughter for lunch, I stumbled upon some bologna that my husband has been using for his lunch. I cut some up and handed it off to AJ, who scarfed it down like no body's business. "If it's good enough for her, it's good enough for me," I thought and made myself a sandwich. As soon as I bit into that bologna and cheese sandwich I instantly thought of my Maw-Maw. Her pulling that bologna out of her old green fridge, expertly making my sandwich on the Formica counter top, cutting it into triangles and passing it over to me.
I always loved my Maw-Maw but it wasn't until my teen years that I learned WHY I loved her. She was a tough woman. She lived through much tragedy during her life. War, the Great Depression, being widowed, burying children. Yet she still rejoiced in the Lord, still witness of God's love and mercy. She was the most caring individual anyone could every hope to meet.
Maw-Maw passed away this past fall. My daughter got to spend time with her, but will likely not remember her. My soon-to-be-born daughter, who will share my Maw-Maw's middle name, will never know her first hand. I do know that they will know the legacy of their great-grandmother. I can't wait to share with them the memories I cherish.
Who knew a bologna sandwich could stir up such emotion. Perhaps it's the overflow of pregnancy hormones racing through my body; maybe I'm a little home sick. I know for sure that I miss my Maw-Maw. And I will always think of her when I have a bologna sandwich.