« Yes. »
« Okay, Grandma. Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you, » I replied reluctantly.
« It’s an old basement. »
***
When I was eight, Grandma Evelyn took me in after my parents died in a car crash. We lived in her small house on the outskirts of town. I remember very little about the weeks after that.
I remember that Grandma never gave long speeches. She just kept showing up for breakfast, school, homework, dinner, and bedtime.
Then she did it again the following day.
I remember very little.
She and my grandfather, Frank, had spent most of their married life in that house.
Grandpa had been sick with cancer for a long time. After he was gone, Grandma was left with bills connected to his care and a mortgage she couldn’t keep up with.
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