Another Grandma Story

My grandmother, the one I lived with off-and-on when I was little, was born in May.  So this time of year I find myself recalling fond memories of her a little more often than usual.  I hope you have memories of a grandmother.  Mine was a story teller. 

She was one of 11 children. Her dad died when she was very young and her family was really poor. Their house was just a step above a shack.  One of her jobs growing up was to walk along the train tracks near her house and pick up pieces of coal.  Her family used the coal to cook and to heat their house in the winter.  Even today, coal falls out of the coal cars as the trains rumble along.

I was 6 or 7 when she told me about the coal.  It got me thinking.  What if we got snowed in and needed to heat our house?  What would we do?  I grabbed a bucket and started walking the rails, collecting coal.  I piled the nuggets in the nook of a hollowed-out tree and promptly forgot about them.  A year later I stumbled across them and was embarrassed--my parent's house had oil heat and no fireplace.  There was absolutely no way to burn coal in their house without burning it down.  It was silly of me to collect it in the first place!  But then I got an idea.  I piled really heavy sandstones on top of the coal.  Then all I had to do was wait. 

Not long after that I was working in the woods with my dad.  He noticed the pile of stones and asked if I knew why it was there.  Instead of sharing the embarrassing reason why I had I gathered the coal, I shared why I put heavy sandstones on top of it--I was a little proud.  I told him I was making diamonds for Mom and Nanny!!! (That's what we called my grandmother)

I had no idea why he sighed and shook his head.  Maybe he wanted a diamond too.  ;P