Zenith, my Gran: 8/9/20 - 11/20/04

I love to remember the crunchy feel of Gran's hair... the tiny tv next to her bed, and Tums (free for the taking) in her top drawer. I remember the journal she used to keep, and she would let me read it, when she lived in the old house. She said it wasn't personal stuff, just what happened every day. I loved that a journal could be like that, just an account of time. I loved the way she smelled, like fresh powder. And she would let me play with the skin on her hands, and I would press a vein and wonder if that would harm her. I remember when I became taller than she was, and to hug her felt so small, but full of bigness. I loved her vegetable soup and ground turkey salad, but most of all her cinnamon toast on white bread, with enough margarine that there were pockets of wetness.