The morning was full of old and new. Thoughts of my grandmother dominated the conversation. The fruit of her womb still paying homage to her. I see her in the mirror. I feel her when I put on my red shoes. I smell her in my morning bath. I understand her when I want to keep on walking.
My baby sister doesn't remember our grandmother as vividly as I do. I told her stories of how she would take us shopping. And of course about the switches! I wanted her to know the stock she came from. I myself needed to be reminded.
She reminded me of how I teased her and called her names. I did hate her. This morning hopefully we settled it over coffee and grits.
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