In lieu of a blog post, I'd like to post another snippet about my grandma. I wrote this one this morning as my 100-word writing warm-up. It's something I remembered while I was thinking about the children who hang around in this neighborhood:
The neighborhood kids called her a witch. They'd ride their bikes up and down her street, making wide sweeps past her driveway, advising each other to "Watch out. The witch lives there." I don't remember if I witnessed this happen or if I was merely told about it later, about these kids who bestowed upon her such a thoughtless title, but what I do know is that I could never understand why. There was nothing witchy about my kind grandma, a woman who always helped out the neighborhood kids, bought what they were selling, gave them prime chocolate every Halloween...
Post a Comment