"As I awoke this morning I heard the patter of rain upon the roof. In fancy my thoughts revert back to my childhood and my old home in Louisiana, where as a child, I so often heard the old familiar sound of the rain upon my roof." ~Bess Carroll Brendel
So begins the historical novel my great grandmother wrote. Nonna B was a remarkable woman. I remember going to visit her in San Antonio, where she lived for much of her adult life. Nonna B lived alone in her house until her death. In many ways she reminds me of Ms. Angelle- independent and gutsy. Nonna B would have Sunday dinners for the family, just like my mother prepares Sunday dinners for our family. But Nonna B would prepare several decadent desserts, and her feelings would get hurt if you didn't have a taste of each one.
I loved exploring her house. From a child's eyes, it seemed spooky and mysterious. The back of her house she often rented out (again, like Ms.Angelle) and I remember thinking it was haunted. I was too scared to venture back there, so I usually stayed in the kitchen where all the adults gathered, or sat on the big porch in one of my favorite rocking chairs. Nonna B would always come out, set me on her lap and rock me as she told me stories about her childhood. These stories filled my mind and helped pass the time, just as Nonna B wrote at the end of her book:
"A handful of memories will brighten the gloom of the loneliest day. Anon."