She had a little Scottish terrier - I think his name was Einstein - who I don't remember ever seeing, I just remember being scared of him. I think they kept him in a crate when there were a lot of kids around, in the same room where I would play Pitfall on the Atari and try not to get eaten by the 8-bit crocodiles.
Mom-Mom would take these long naps on her recliner in the living room, while we played on the floor or the couch. Just when we thought we could get away with doing something naughty, she would magically stir and, keeping her eyes closed, say, "I'm just resting my eyes," and we knew better than to test that statement.
The thing I remember the most about Mom-Mom was her smile. It was the kind of smile that took up her whole face, reducing her eyes to happy little squinty lines. I loved that smile. She lived that smile.
I don't remember her ever getting mad. I just remember her loving me, and treating me like family.
When I took communion at her memorial service, I tasted love - and chicken and dumpling soup.
Chicken and Dumpling Soup (in memory of Mom-Mom)
(Serves 4 - 6. Dumpling recipe via Olga's Flavor Factory )