“It’s so nice of you to come see me. How are you?”
She speaks with that sweet southern lilt that is like home, but it isn’t. It is more than home, better in some ways. It is the accent of summer vacations and Christmas, snacks and treats at random hours, and carte blanche to do as you like with only the gentlest of reproaches if trouble followed.
She is the woman every child wants for a grandmother and she is mine. Sitting here talking to her, I can’t help but smile, that is the effect her presence has.
“I’m fine. How are you doing?”
“Oh, I’m getting along,” she chuckles. “You know, at my age things don’t always work the way I’d like, but I count my blessings.”
Her voice is the same as it has always been. Her deep brown eyes are just as full of kindness, intelligence, and humor as they were thirty years ago. Her body has grown thinner over the years, the fine lines around her eyes