Where did you meet?” he pressed on.
I shrugged and considered a little rephrasing. “I was out for a run.”
“From who?”
I leaned back to take a long, very long, slow sip of that beer.
Knox leaned forward. “I think we’re both bullsh*tting here, you ever play that card game?”
“With my grandma, every Sunday after church.
Tag: humor church fantasy funny paranormal urban cards silver knox card-game zoe sterling grandma
You're a brave, brave girl, Tula" Gaby told her.
"I know", said the little girl. "I got it from you.
The Everlasting Staircase"
Jeffrey McDaniel
When the call came, saying twenty-four hours to live,
my first thought was: can't she postpone her exit
from this planet for a week? I've got places to do,
people to be. Then grief hit between the ribs,
said disappear or reappear more fully. so I boarded
a red eyeball and shot across America,
hoping the nurses had enough quarters to keep
the jukebox of Grandma's heart playing. She grew up
poor in Appalachia. And while world war II
functioned like Prozac for the Great Depression,
she believed poverty was a double feature,
that the comfort of her adult years was merely
an intermission, that hunger would hobble back,
hurl its prosthetic leg through her window,
so she clipped, clipped, clipped -- became the Jacques
Cousteau of the bargain bin, her wetsuit
stuffed with coupons. And now --pupils fixed, chin
dangling like the boots of a hanged man --
I press my ear to her lampshade-thin chest
and listen to that little soldier march toward whatever
plateau, or simply exhaust his arsenal of beats.
I hate when people ask if she even knew I was there.
The point is I knew, holding the one-sided
conversation of her hand. Once I believed the heart
was like a bar of soap -- the more you use it,
the smaller it gets; care too much and it'll snap off
in your grasp. But when Grandma's last breath
waltzed from that room, my heart opened
wide like a parachute, and I realized she didn't die.
She simply found a silence she could call her own.
Tag: poetry death heart grandma parachute the-everlasting-staircase
I’m supposed to figure out if the glass is half full or half empty,” I told her.
Without a moment’s hesitation, in a split second, my grandmother shrugged and said: “It depends on if you’re drinking or pouring.
Tag: life pessimist perspective funny optimist grandma
The groove is so mysterious. We're born with it and we lose it and the world seems to split apart before our eyes into stupid and cool. When we get it back, the world unifies around us, and both stupid and cool fall away.
I am grateful to those who are keepers of the groove. The babies and the grandmas who hang on to it and help us remember when we forget that any kind of dancing is better than no dancing at all.
Tag: growing-up dance dancing confidence babies stupid adolescence demons cool self-love grandma lynda-barry groove one-hundred-demons
Everybody has a little good in them. Either good or just good for nothing.
A.M. GriffinTag: quotes grandma a-m-griffin
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