When my brother Thomas and I were very little, we would spend the night at grandma’s house on vacation. One evening, grandma tucked us in whilst wearing a silk robe. As she leaned in, the robe crease slid open and our eyes grew wide. We haven’t stopped referring to that night as the ‘night we saw the mountains.’
Yesterday was the 80th birthday of Grandma Mary (Bryan’s grandmother). I have absolutely fallen in love with this little lady. She has amazing taste, an attitude, and has joined the ranks of the ‘older and honest’ group of citizens.
Yesterday morning, Bryan and I were sitting on the couch, flipping through old issues of Architectural Digest and boxes of family photo’s from the past. One of his aunt’s came over to grandma’s house to pick up some of her extra silver and grandma decided to leave her bedroom and insist that her daughter took more serving plates with her. All of this would have been fine if grandma had been wearing more than just her towel. She had just gotten out of the shower and wrapped herself as best she could with the cotton 2×5. As I was contemplating the dynamics of how she got the towel around her little round figure, she turned around to walk back into the room, revealing the missing piece of logic: a three-inch gap of skin from top to bottom where the towel couldn’t reach. She looked at me, shrugged, and said ‘well…you know,’ and shuffled back into her room. I laughed so hard I cried. What a life it would be to be so unconcerned and unapologetic for a misdemeanor such as that?