When grandmothers refuse to eat
It was only a few more weeks left 'till Christmas and I wondered how my grandmother would have felt after reading my history papers. I suppose she was my first nanny second only to my Mom. I remember her crinkled smiling face, her tobacco-chewing mouth. She cured my wounds with guava leaves. She boiled them before applying and she cooked and maybe helped with laundry. Maybe my sister Jo Ann remembers my Lola better. What I remember more is my Auntie's Mom. Maybe my parents were forced to get a divorce. Our neighbors thought we were too noisy. But Daddy showed by example. Mama became a Martha, trying her hardest to fit in. Maybe I was a younger Mary, silently watching. This Christmas, hopefully after the mayhem of COVID and past wars, let us try to be kind. Grandmothers might be hard of hearing, might be depressed and sinking in their thoughts. So if granny refuses to eat,