I remember when Grandma taught me to sew. I never could get even a running stitch right.
“Your sewing is just like your writing,” she’d say. “It’s full of loose ends!” Then she’d poke me in the shoulder with her needle. She always did that when I wasn’t doing something right.
“That hurts, Grandma!”
“You know what else hurts? Childbirth! Now go apologize to your mother for being born and tell her I need my diaper changed!”
Mom told me that she had a terrible childhood growing up with Grandma, though she said she loved her mother all the same and we should all love her and take care of her because she’s family.
Grandma always breathes really loud. She has a tube in her nose and you can hear her breathing from any room in the house. Sometimes, late at night, I pray for God to take her. I feel kinda bad about that, but it seems like she’d be happier in Heaven anyways. She has to be over a hundred by now. Maybe God is waiting for her to screw up so He won’t have to let her into Heaven. I like to believe God has a plan for everybody.