My granny nightgown is a time machine

I was shopping recently and spotted a very sweet, mint green cotton nightie with blue flowers. It had a few superfluous buttons down the front and a satin ribbon embellishment. I bought it because it reminded me of the nightgowns I would wear at Granny’s house. I would rummage through her drawer to find a cotton gown for sleeping.

Cotton was necessary because the summer nights on Hedge Hill could be very warm. I remember bounding into bed with Me-Maw – her bed so springy. My brothers would be on the equally springy bed on the sleeping porch just next to us. All windows and screened doors would be open to allow for the cross-breeze. The cacophony of night sounds would, eventually, lull us to sleep – crickets, frogs, whippoorwills, and the cluck of hens settling in at dusk.

We could still hear the adults playing cards in the other room, and I often felt sorry for Me-Maw that she was missing all that fun just to lie down with her grandbabies. But I guess she didn’t feel that way at all. With her lazy drawl, she would tell me funny stories about when my Mama was a little girl. I couldn’t imagine a more wonderful way to drift off to sleep than snuggled next to my granny who smelled of Prell and baby powder.

The house on the hill didn’t have AC and the plumbing was suspect – so much so that if you had to pee in the middle of the night, you used the chamber pot in the corner of the room. I kid you not! It was my first inkling that internal plumbing vs external plumbing for girls and boys was completely unfair.

The sheets were soft cotton and the cover would typically be a chenille – the kind that leaves marks on your face for hours. But they were crisp and cool and comfy. I would awaken to the smell of fresh eggs and bacon or sausage cooking. I could hear the coffee percolator doing its job, and the adults turning the pages of the newspaper. I would dress for the day, leaving Me-Maw’s nightgown on the bathroom hook for use later that night.

Now, my new granny nightie hangs on my own bathroom hook. I slipped the nightgown on tonight and pulled my hair into a ponytail. I have no idea how a material object can extract such tactile memories - I can smell, hear, feel and taste Hedge Hill. I sit on the couch and enjoy the cross breeze and listen to the sounds of the night, and feel all of 10 years old.  This granny nightgown is a time machine. <3