the morning mama called to tell me our Bobbye had passed away the babes were awake and the day was beginning its demands on me. That has been one of my fears since having Ender: what can I do when I lose someone I love? I cope by completely unraveling, then silence, then more weeping, then running to some place solitaire, a tree, a mountain, under my covers. A mother cannot do that. I inhale deeply and go and make breakfast.
She was a firecracker.
The summers were warm and damp with a chance of tornadoes.
Saturday mornings in the kitchen watching the Price is Right.
Exploring the abandoned hospital (where mama was born) and the ice house by the train tracks with Tyler.
Bringing Sharon her paper.
Experiencing an epiphany as a child sitting behind my grandmother's curly brown hair on a rollercoaster just as the train of rickety cars reached the brink before the plummet. At that moment she astonished and inspired me.
Buying vegetables from the man with one arm
Coloring while Grandma watched her soaps.
Outings to the cemeteries and gossiping about the dead (God bless them)
Jumping in her water bed and forcing her to cuddle with me while she watched football.
She laughed a lot. She teased, flirted, had her opinions. She was the matriarch and I felt so empowered and safe surrounded by her, mama and my aunts.
Nobody can do for little children what grandparents do. Grandparents sort of sprinkle stardust over the lives of little children. ~Alex Haley