"Gram will you tell me a story?"
Annie looked up from the game of checkers she was engaged in and smiled softly. Her brown eyed opponent that sat across from her was gazing eargerly in her direction with a grin on her face.
"But darlin', what about our game? Don't you want to finish it first?" Annie asked. The little girl, Gwen, shook her head, curls bouncing everywhere.
"No…I'm not going to win anyways. I'm pretty sure I've lost already", the little girl said forlornly.
"Well not with that attitude you certainly won't win! You won't even finish!" Annie scolded. "I know that your parents taught you to not be a sore loser."
The little girl huffed as she replied "No ma'am, they didn't teach me to be a sore loser. But they also didn't teach me that my grandmother was so competitive and wouldn't even let her little granddaughter win a game of checkers!"
Annie chuckled to herself. Her granddaughter was right. She was competitive. But, if she let her win undeservingly and allowing her to become cocky, then it seemed to Annie that a sort of cheating was ensuing, and where was the right in that? She thought. "Well then. We'll finish the game after the story. How 'bout that?" she asked shooting for a compromise.
"Hmmn…I think that'd work," was the answer from Gwen.
After sliding the checker board to the other end of the table Annie got up to put on a pot of coffee.
Whenever she told a story kitchen-table style she always had a cup of coffee next to her sip on. It added a nice touch to the ambiance of story time with her granddaughter.
"So what kind of story are you thinking of?" she inquired. Annie had lots of stories she could tell her granddaughter, some humorous and some very sombering. But she would save those for a later date she decided as she heard Gwen ask for a story about the first time she met Granddad. Annie couldn't help but smile as she thought of how the little girl was probably going to grow up to be a hopeless romantic, not unlike herself, and how she wasn't helping to squash the seed.
The coffee pot chirped and Annie poured herself a cup with Skinny Vanilla Latte Creamer and sat down. "Now why on earth would you want to hear a story about your Granddad and me? Aren't we just a
couple of old 'peeps' living far away from you?"
Gwen shook her head vehemently, making her curls bounce once again. "Noooo! You're not old Gram. You're refined."
Annie arched an eyebrow. "Refined? Ha! Now who'd you hear that from?"
"Granddad" the Gwen answered with a small grin.
"Granddad… Why am I not surprised?" Annie mumbled under her breath good-naturadly. "Well where should I start—"
"—Hey Gram, where are dad and granddad?"
"I thought you wanted a story? Not the answers to all your questions," Annie asked with a wry smile. Luckily her granddaughter had inherited the sarcasm gene and understood her grandmother was only joking around and simply grinned. "I think they went to find your momma a Mother's Day gift. Is that alright with you?" she asked.
"Yep, alright with me! Hey Gram?"
"Yes darlin'?"
"Could you start the story now?"
Chuckling to herself she launched into the account of the first time she ever met one August Anderson.