Rollin Great-Granma out to the porch wasn’t hard, but sittin with her was a chore that I didn’t look forward to.
Now don’t get me wrong. I loved Great-Granma, and I never once complained or even thought about makin some excuse for Mama to make Brother sit with her instead of me.
He wouldn’t do it right. He’d just sit and sulk, or worse he might whittle on that lump of wood he said was goin to be a bear once he was done and ignore Great-Granma completely.
No, he wouldn’t be good company for her. Not at all. So I never complained. I just let Mama think that I enjoyed the time on the porch every morning. And I made myself sit still and I made myself watch her. From time to time I made sure to ask her how she was or what she thought about the day, just like Mama did when she fed her meals. She’d just breathe kinda ragged or flutter her eyelids, so I’d ask again or tell her something Brother had done or some news Daddy brought back from the store. Sometimes if I felt real brave I’d reach over and hold her clasped hands, gently though and not for too long. The skin felt so smooth and thin that I feared it might split if I held on too hard. Doin that always made me shake inside, made me tremble like her hands used to when she’d reach out to kiss my cheek when I was little. She never did that anymore, but I always made sure to kiss her on the forehead when the sun got too hot and Mama called for us to come inside.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved Great-Granma. I just didn’t like sittin with her on the porch every morning. It was a chore, just like pullin weeds or feedin the dogs. It was something I dreaded, but I went out to the shed and cried that day when Daddy tied that chair up beneath the barn loft.
Now don’t get me wrong. I loved Great-Granma, and I never once complained or even thought about makin some excuse for Mama to make Brother sit with her instead of me.
He wouldn’t do it right. He’d just sit and sulk, or worse he might whittle on that lump of wood he said was goin to be a bear once he was done and ignore Great-Granma completely.
No, he wouldn’t be good company for her. Not at all. So I never complained. I just let Mama think that I enjoyed the time on the porch every morning. And I made myself sit still and I made myself watch her. From time to time I made sure to ask her how she was or what she thought about the day, just like Mama did when she fed her meals. She’d just breathe kinda ragged or flutter her eyelids, so I’d ask again or tell her something Brother had done or some news Daddy brought back from the store. Sometimes if I felt real brave I’d reach over and hold her clasped hands, gently though and not for too long. The skin felt so smooth and thin that I feared it might split if I held on too hard. Doin that always made me shake inside, made me tremble like her hands used to when she’d reach out to kiss my cheek when I was little. She never did that anymore, but I always made sure to kiss her on the forehead when the sun got too hot and Mama called for us to come inside.
Don’t get me wrong. I loved Great-Granma. I just didn’t like sittin with her on the porch every morning. It was a chore, just like pullin weeds or feedin the dogs. It was something I dreaded, but I went out to the shed and cried that day when Daddy tied that chair up beneath the barn loft.
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