Бабушке

               

 
My sweetest childhood memories go back to the summers spent at my grandparents house in Oshmany.               
What they created was a little piece of heaven on earth; at least that’s how I remember it.               
 I can still picture the house, with the sweet smelling flowers in front of the window; my grandmother would open that window in the evenings to let the aroma into the house.               

 My grandparents would leave for work, and my sister and I would spend the day happily playing in their beautiful garden, which they planted themselves, sheltered from the sun in the gazebo that my grandfather built.               
 At lunch we would visit my grandmother in the cafeteria where she worked.   
She would feed us and off to the movies we would go.          
 We would place our dinner orders, so she would pick up the appropriate food items on the way home, and if we could not agree on the same meal she would happily make us each our own order.               
 My grandmother was an unbelievable cook.               
 When I got older I often called her for her recipes, but they never tasted quite the same when I tried to make them.
 She had that special touch.               
Alla Levit.