Grandma has lived 50 years in this place. Not this apartment, but on the same compound grounds. The tiny little world eked out separate from the rest of the world. Here there is safety and memories and friends. Here there is no poverty, no fighting, no fear. Here there is an underground potato shed.
|Grandma and I in years gone by. Me little; her big.|
|Grandma and I recently. Her little; me big.|
Tomorrow, she goes on her last big adventure. A new place, new people, new experiences, old lady.
And because I have so much respect for her, I will not tell you the story about the rags.
Until after she's dead.