Saturdays With Grandma: Music, Rain, and Mischief

Some Saturdays, the world outside felt like it slowed down just for us. Rain would fall soft against the windows, and inside, Grandma Marie’s house smelled like breakfast and a little bit of elbow grease—because she was always cleaning, always moving, always making the house feel alive.

And there was always music. Not the radio nonsense, but the kind of songs that sink into your chest and make you move without thinking. Irma Thomas, Aretha, Teddy Pendergrass… somewhere between the clatter of dishes and the squeak of the mop, her voice would fill the rooms. It set the tone. The rain outside? Just part of the rhythm.

I remember watching Grandma, mop in hand, swaying just a little, humming along, and thinking how she could turn housework into an event. “You got to let the music tell you what to do, bébé,” she said. And she was right. Every swipe of the cloth, every polished counter, every scrubbed floor was somehow better because the music led the way.

Then came the best part of the day: downtown adventures. Grandma would say, “Let’s just look,” and that meant we were about to try on outfits we definitely couldn’t afford but had every right to imagine wearing. Long coats, silky dresses, shoes that felt like they belonged in a magazine. We’d spin in the mirrors, laughing at ourselves, playing grown-up for a little while.

I was maybe 17 at the time, and honestly? We weren’t thinking about money, or responsibility, or anything like that. We were just women, exploring what it felt like to be seen, to feel fancy, to claim a little glamour for ourselves—even if only for an hour.

Those moments were small, fleeting, but they were everything. The sound of Irma Thomas on a rainy morning, the smell of breakfast and cleaners mixing in the air, and the quiet thrill of pretending we belonged in a world we were only visiting.

Even now, thinking back, I can hear her laugh, see her twirl, and feel the warmth of those Saturdays. She had a way of making ordinary days feel like celebrations, and I carry that with me still.