The following was written by Leanne one of Natalie's Granddaughters after a visit with Nanny in April 2025. It outlines a typical day in Nanny's Store on Dawes Road:
“A Day Well Spent”
She stands behind the counter, gazing out onto the street as hoodlums walk past, beggars gaze in, and regulars stop by.
"Morning Mrs. Clarke!" says a warm smile, hiding a rough reality. He carefully picks out the pennies from his pocket, and drops them with a clinking sound on the counter. Beneath the pennies are rows of lottery tickets under a murky plastic covering, worn out after 60 years of use.
She uses tongs to count out the number of candies he has purchased and place them into the palm of his hand. 5 pennies, 5 candies. "Geez, I'm gonna be rich" she laughs to herself as he walks out. She follows close behind, grabbing her broom to sweep the front mat clear of leaves and debris. Its bristles are worn nearly to the base from her vigorous sweeping. Her small stature is deceiving as she looks old and frail but she is strong and mighty. This is a quick realization that has been reached by several young men who have tried to rob her.
Next the paper man comes in. "How many today Mrs. Clarke?" He re-stocks her newspaper stand, which beholds a surface the perfect size for both the Toronto Star and her aging hips, or sometimes, if she's lucky, for a visiting grandchild to hop up onto.
She takes a seat on top of the papers. From this vantage point, a mirage of photographs can be seen on the wall across from her, above the counter. So many that they are not distinct photos, but rather a blend of all her loved ones smiling at the camera as if they are smiling at her, protecting her. They are her greatest gifts. There is one in particular which sends a pang to her heart more than the others: a photo of her first born. Losing a child is something a parent should never have to experience. She feels her cheeks and they are wet from tears.
She shuffles her slippered feet along the linoleum floors, stopping to fix a misplaced floor mat or pull forward a pushed back can on the shelf. She makes her way to the back of the store where she quickly organizes the leftover containers from Daughter #3's last visit. She decides she will have the meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. She is grateful for the thoughtfulness of her daughter, and the nourishment it will give her busy body for the day.
She shuffles back to the front of the store when the phone rings.
"Cla-arke's...Oh, hi Char" It's daughter #2 with her daily check in. She is grateful for the companionship. The silence of the store can be lonely at times.
As she finishes her conversation, she notices a car pull up. Daughter #4. The car parks out front of the store, shining bright from a fresh wash. She watches her youngest get out and go around the back of the car to open the trunk. She quickly scoots outside to help with the groceries. Though they are 38 years apart, they are in unison in their mannerisms. She is grateful for her daughter's support and help.
Next, one of her granddaughters walks in, saying a warm "hi nanny" and doling out a big hug. She whips over to the freezer and with a few jiggles and a push, its cardboard and duct taped cover opens up to reveal the goodies inside. She feels good when her family eats, so she passes a Dixie cup ice cream with a small wooden spoon to her granddaughter. She tells stories about the regulars who come into the store, making her granddaughter laugh and smile. She is a great storyteller.
At the end of a nice visit, she looks around frantically for what she can give her daughter and granddaughter before they leave. A newspaper? A sandwich? A magazine? She would offer them everything if they would take it. They each accept a hug and a kiss. And the last parting gift: she traces two perpendicular lines in the shape of a cross on their backs. Three times to mimick the Holy Trinity, and to bless them as they go on their way.
Her daughter's hand sticking out the window to wave goodbye mirrors her own. She watches the car turn the corner, listens to it honk as a farewell, and returns to her stool behind the counter. She faces the window to gaze out at the passersby. Her expression has softened. Less of a furrow and more of a smile. Her day has been made. A day well spent.
