My Grandmother

As directed, Master...

My parents knocked on the door then held me up so I would be the first thing she saw when she opened the door. She was so happy to see me. I think she had not seen me since I was an infant. It was the first time I remember seeing her... I still remember how happy she was.

I have so many memories of her house. Her amazing house. The great wooden table I would play under. The room stuff full of so many intricate collections: plates, salt & pepper shakers, shot glasses, stones... so many things. I would spend hours there just looking at each one. I would spend some summers there, and enjoy myself immensely.

They got away with so much back then. I was allowed to join them in the pool hall they frequented. I would play pac-man for hours! We'd be at the truck stop until 2 or 3 in the morning. I would spend my afternoons in doors watching cartoons, or wandering the acres of land getting into all manner of things.

She would make me little button monsters. Oh how I wish I still had some. I wish I knew where one was. I used to love those things and she made them by the dozens. I have been searching the house top to bottom for the last thing she ever crocheted and cursing that I can not find it. At least I still have the flower afghan.

I curse that I can not ever keep hold of things. They just drift away from me, or I simply misplace them.

Things I remember:
The smell of coffee and cigarettes -this still translates as a good smell to me.
The table legs.
The fly swatter.
Her face.
How she always ordered me french fries.
The quarters she would always give me.
Her Christmas tree. -There has never been one as beautiful since.
The warmth.

Finally, I can cry...

Thank you, Master.