I didn’t want to be called Grandmom, not particularly. I tried to think of something a little different. No, baby girl, please don’t call me by my first name, Marguerite. That’s too informal.
Believe me, I thought of names that other grandmothers use, including Gigi and Mimi. Cute. Nah, I’m not a Gigi or a Mimi. Not a Gram, not a Gran, not a Grandmama. I had to dig hard for a name I liked.
I looked up words for grandmother in other languages and I found Morai, pronounced something like Mo-ree. I liked it. It’s one of the words for grandmother used in Ireland. I have Irish ancestry and so does Nora. Excellent.
I called myself Mo-ree to my granddaughter since she was born.
You see her in the photo playing with her toy, a cardboard tube from a paper towel roll? She believes in the basics.
But! Fifteen, almost sixteen months. She wouldn’t call me anything and she is talking so… What’s up with that?
Today she called me Momo all day. Whenever she wanted me, I heard, “MOMO! MOMO!”
I tried the Mo-ree with her one last time. She looked at me as if, “Who is Mo-ree?”
She wrapped her arms around me and asked for a bite of my blueberry muffin. “Cake, Momo?”
I threw away my Irish grandmother name, gave her a bite of my muffin and embraced my new name. She smiled and said, “Tattoo, Momo.” Translation: Thank you, Grandmother.
She picked up that great new toy, the paper towel tube and was happy. So was her melting grandmother on her new name day…
Love to my readers,
Marguerite (Wunsch) Ferra
Cramer Hill resident
P.S. Tell me some other grandmother names?