When Granny was feeling fairly good (which was rare) i was a very lucky little girl. She spoiled me rotten. We spent many hours on the side of her bed while she brushed my hair and tied red ribbons in it. With Granny, everything was red, it was her favorite color. She made me special food when she was able to cook, and sat with me while i ate it, so i got every bite. She fussed over how pathetically skinny i was and how i was always covered in bruises. Granddaddy always blamed these two conditions on contrariness and clumsiness. These explanations were accepted without question, but when she felt okay, Granny always wished she was well enough to help me over those two conditions.Some of our favorite things to do together were singing and bouncing. We sang together for hours while taking turns gently bouncing the bed so that we rocked softly together. Swing low sweet chariot was our favorite, and looking back now, i think it was because we were both so desperate to escape the pain we were living in.Granny was everything good in my life, most days. And, such was the strength of her personality, that even sick and exhausted and dying, she was a force to be reckoned with. Granny lived until i was 11. i barely got to see her after i was 8, but i will always see her there, on the side of her bed singing.
