my grandmother was a stunning woman with long natural nails and wavy black hair. she drove a cadillac-fast, swore and smoked and had blood red carpets that i played upon as a child. i convinced myself that the pool in her apartment complex held sharks that would appear if the shadow of the building crossed the water. she once spanked me for spilling jello on her white pant suit. she was attacked by locusts on a deserted road in texas. she could make me laugh like no other and loved me unfailingly. she was a rosie riveter in the shipyards during the war. she painted delicate & gentle birds on canvas.
now there are vultures sitting on fences outside her humble house and her hands are growing listless, feet swelling blue, kidneys failing, lungs filling with unfriendly fluids, cancer voraciously eating.
and it is never ever fair that the ones who gave what little they had should be deserted by their own lives.