My Grandma’s House

My family moved into my grandmother’s home after my grandfather died
My grandma’s room, her home, became the place where stories happened
We listened to her stories as we ate bleu cheese from a jar, with Ritz crackers, and drank a little vino (my grandma wasn’t supposed to drink wine . . .)
And she never smiled for a photographer unless someone was . . .
t i c k l i n g   h e r   k n e e

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