BUCKING THE SYSTEM: DELTA SYRUP, SCRATCH BISCUITS, THE LOOK: MA DEAR'S BLESSINGS

This weekend, I'm piling my family in my mom's car for a quick trip to Walls, Miss.

This is an annual excursion taken near the end of September to join the rest of my maternal relatives in celebrating my grandmother's birthday.

Ma Dear turns 86 this year, a number that by itself means nothing to her, but to us it means the world. She doesn't seem to recognize her advanced age, except to remind us that she's not getting around like she used to.

As for us, we turn each additional birthday into a reason to celebrate the fact that we've been blessed to have her with us another year.

I think this year I'll be especially happy at this family gathering because there will be so many babies there. Several of Ma Dear's great-grandchildren -- babies I can remember welcoming to the world -- now have their own children, and it's a lot of fun to see which ones passed on the Morgan nose (my grandfather's) and who blessed their children with Ma Dear's legacy of bowed legs.

Moreover, this is the year my youngest son, PJ, makes his debut at the birthday party. Ma Dear seems to have a special glow each time she sees Jerry, and I'm interested to see if she shares the same look with PJ.

I know Ma Dear's eyes are getting weak, and that's why she bows her head down towards the children when they come around. Even so, I feel like an intruder whenever she does it. It's almost like they're sharing some kind of intimate secret that I, her grandchild but now an adult, can't be in on.

You see, I remember when Ma Dear used to give me that look. It was a look that meant nothing, and yet everything. I usually got it right before she handed me my favorite meal of Delta syrup and homemade biscuits and told my mom to leave me alone and let a growing child eat.

I can't say I was Ma Dear's favorite grandchild back then, because she had lots of grandchildren and lots of favorites.

But the wonderful thing about her is that she made us feel special, and The Look was a part of that. Some of us she was harder on, others were spoiled rotten, and still others just received normal treatment.

But we all got equal helpings of whuppins, Delta syrup and homemade biscuits whenever Ma Dear felt they needed to be shared.

We also got our share of The Look, the one that said we were hers and that each of us was a blessing.

I'm going to try and capture The Look on camera this year, but I know it's probably a wasted effort. Ma Dear's a private woman, and The Look is something personal that's not to be shared with just anybody.

That's what makes it so special.