Grandma was bony. Her light summer housedresses added no substance at all to her frame, and her summer hugs were especially skeletal. It wasn’t that she was skinny exactly; she just seemed to the child-me to have a lot of bones.
She sat at her kitchen table with the dented colander in her aproned lap, cleaning green beans from a pile heaped on a torn brown bag spread over the oilcloth. Her long fingers, never manicured or jeweled, moved automatically.
Such a small sound, that snap of the bean, blending arrhythmically with the summer breeze which carried its own small sounds through the screens, bits of birdsong, leafsong and the tickling jingle of the ice cream man. In summer’s slow time, the air mingled with the fragrance of the fresh beans, and everything was new.
Two windows flanked the table, their curtains puffed lightly by summer’s breath. Grandma sat between one window and the back screened door, locked with a little hook. What a joy to a kid to flip up the hook and careen out, over the small porch, past the pantry window that used to be their winter icebox, down the wooden stairs, into the little yard festooned with tomatoes and moss roses.
And what a smack was there! That screened door slammed shut with decibels to wake the dead. BLAM! It was a sound that shattered the snoozy summer every time. That door slapped her house so smartly that it was hard not to think that it was going after the flies that tried to get in. I’m sure it got a few.
There was something satisfying about that smack. There was a door with character, purpose, a voice. Everyone with ears knew of it. It announced our going-forths like cannon shot. After Dad and his sisters grew up, it might have been a happy time for the door to be again in the harum-scarum forces of little hands.
In the comings and goings of children, the slamming of screened door, the grandma, busy with the things of living, maybe thinking in her bones about the day the door would be quiet again.
Submitted to Dan Antion’s
Annual Thursday Doors Writing Challenge,
with thanks both to Dan for hosting,
and to Lois, whose door photo
reminded me of the long-ago door.
Oddments 
May 16, 2023 at 7:01 pm
Maureen–I love this. That little hook on the door–is it not crazy that that was our security system?! So many memories of my grandmother sitting in her hot little kitchen while we raced to get outside to the concrete jungle that was Newark NJ–and that door slamming every time. My dad always yelled, “Don’t slam the door.” My grandmother said not a word.
May 16, 2023 at 7:46 pm
Thank you, Lois! I am in awe at the similarity between your memory and mine. Between “shut the door” and “don’t slam the door,” what was a kid to do? It is impossible to imagine a time and place when that little hook was the security system even though we were there for it!
May 16, 2023 at 7:57 pm
Maureen, what a wonderful story and tribute to all those screen doors with the little security hook and eye that got slammed countless times every day.
It made me remember the gazillion green beans I sat and snapped with my own grandma, the ears of corn we shucked, the apples that we peeled and sliced for pie or homemade applesauce. I swear I can smell the .sweetheart soap grandma would have made me wash my hands with before touching anything,
And yes, she wore house dresses with socks and her “practical” shoes and always an apron. A full apron, not a half apron.
We didn’t sit in the hot kitchen though. We sat on her screened-in front porch drinking iced tea. I was corrected many times because I didn’t snap the beans right! But I slammed the screen door on that porch right. Neighbors probably heard it two blocks away!
Your story brought back wonderful memories. Thank you.
BTW, we’re having green beans tonight with dinner….straight from the freezer! 🤗
Ginger
May 16, 2023 at 11:07 pm
Oh, yes, always the full apron! When I grew up, I wanted full aprons, and I wore them always thinking of Grandma. You have some great memories there, and I’m glad they include proper slamming of a screen door! I too have wonderful memories of my grandma’s screened-in front porch. I don’t think she taught me to snap beans, though; that would have been my mom. I needn’t say that my beans these days are pre-snapped. I do occasionally buy fresh green beans, and when I clean them I use Grandma’s colander. Thanks for the peek at your grandma!
May 16, 2023 at 8:30 pm
Maureen, this is lovely. I remember my grandmother and my favorite aunt – Adel. Both at their tables, or on their porch, snapping beans, cleaning corn and all the tasks that turned homegrown veggies into wonderful meals. Meanwhile, I ran in an out through those screen doors, slamming them every time. I remember the hook, and I remember the spring that pulled the door tight. I don’t remember them yelling, but like Lois, I remember my dad. Sometimes, he would latch that hook in an attempt to get my to think about not slamming. But he always let me in.
Thank you for this, I’m smiling as I think about three people – I loved them all dearly.
May 16, 2023 at 9:55 pm
Isn’t it amazing how something little is really something big? All this from Lois’ door! Doors rule!
May 17, 2023 at 1:03 am
You touched a nice nerve with this.
May 17, 2023 at 10:31 am
Beautiful both in words and the vision it allowed me to see in my mind. My grandmother was rather round, but it made for good hugs. 🙂 I spent my summers with my grandparents, and my grandfather always said the house was quiet when I went home. I never truly understood that until my own grandchildren became teens. Thank you for the memories, Maureen.
May 17, 2023 at 12:58 pm
The memories are bittersweet, aren’t they? I can so understand how quiet their house was after you left, and here we are at that same time of life. As for hugs, I think there would be quite a difference between a round hug and a bony hug, but they were about the same love. I wouldn’t mind one of those hugs from my grandma right now, and maybe you feel the same.
May 17, 2023 at 2:54 pm
Lois, this has all the rich fragrances of a fond memory. I saw, smelled, and heard this story. Well done. Hugs.
May 17, 2023 at 3:44 pm
Thank you, Teagan!
May 30, 2023 at 11:02 pm
Your beautifully written story brought back so many memories. Especially, the screen door on the house where I grew up. I remember clearly my mom yelling, “Don’t slam the door,” as we slammed the door. 🙂 My granny also had one such door. Nicely done!
May 31, 2023 at 12:46 am
Thank you! Apparently a lot of us had noisy screen doors in our growing-up years. Was it our fault they slammed like that? Of course not! It’s nice to know so many of us knew that sound!