In Open Window, I directed my readers to this story that I wrote about my Grandma Anna.
When I was a child, I crawled up into Grandma Anna’s comfortable lap, shut my eyes, and enjoyed being cradled in loving warmth.
I don’t remember ever seeing Grandma walk or stand. She always sat in an easy chair, her chubby body spreading out to fill its worn form perfectly. Her dimpled elbows rested on the chair’s smooth wooden arms.Her house dress was plain and threadbare. It was probably her best dress, maybe her only one. She was painfully poor after my grandfather abandoned her. He left her with a run-down house on a swampy patch of land and too many children to feed. Daddy always said there were seven in the first litter and six in the second.