My father's mother was a rotund little lady who had a gentle and loving spirit. She was always smiling, and she always had time to give her grandchildren warm hugs against her crisp, starched apron. My grandfather was a pious little fellow, a devout Baptist, who was mostly serious about life. We lived some distance away (for those days) and saw them only once or twice a year, so it occasioned large family gatherings. The poem I wrote reflects my childhood memories of those visits when we were all seated around the big table in the kitchen, the wonderful smells emanating from steaming dishes, and my grandfather, in his bib overalls, bowing his head and offering grace that seemed far too long to the children at the table. Treasured memories that will be with me always.