“I Didn’t Think She’d Make It Through the Winter”

Dad went down home to get gramma one Thanksgiving . . . she was by herself now and wouldn’t have cooked anything. She came through the door just lost in that fancy hand-me-down dress Ruth had give her. It must have been a size 20. It was hot pink taffeta with a full circle skirt covered in lace. She didn’t need any jewlry. There was pearls and diamonds all over the bodice. Gramma’s bony chest under a sweet heart neckline. She looked like a scare crow goin’ to a cocktail party. She just loved to wear it though . . . the way it rustled when she walked. She had on her ragged gray sweater and her black tie up shoes and dark cotton hose. We said, “Hi gramma.” She didn’t hug us when she came in. She went straight to the bathroom. The back of her dress was all wet. Me and Alice walked in there. She had left the door wide open. Gramma’s legs were so skinny under that arm load of shiny pink fabric she’d scrunched up to her waist. Alice said, “I’ll wash those for you.” Gramma dropped her skirt and said, “Naw . . . they’ll dry.” Then she laid her scroungy piss soaked underpants across the edge of the tub and said, “That’s the way I do em . . . that’s the way I do em.”