My
memory
wanders
way
back
when
As
a
young
child
getting
to
go
On
long
train
rides
to
see
My
Grandma
I
could
hardly
wait,
I
loved
her
so
We
gathered
there
in
masses
it
seemed
Sometimes
coming
from
all
around
Aunts,
Uncles,
Cousins
and
more
Cousins
Grandma
getting
busy,
Grandpa
just
moseying
around
She
always
said
that
he
was
just
as
slow
As
Molasses
moving
around
in
a
mason
jar
Took
all
day
to
get
him
moving
on
his
feet
But
could
tear
up
concrete
behind
the
wheel
of
his
old
car
She
always
looked
the
same
to
me
One
long
white
braid
pinned
in
a
bun
up
high
Never
had
her
hair
cut
Grandpa
said
He'd
bury
her
with
her
silver
pride
Long
drab
dresses,
funny
shoes
and
bonnets
Face
and
hands
worn
but
soft
and
no
part
of
her
thin
Old
since
I
knew
her
and
if
her
skin
had
been
dark
She
could
have
been
Aunt
Jemima's
twin
Her
clothes
weren't
pretty
I
guess
she
knew
Cause
she
always
wore
that
apron
To
cover
them
I
suppose,
but
it
came
In
mighty
handy
when
a
basket
it
become
I'd
get
to
go
with
Grandma
out
to
the
hen
house
And
fill
that
apron
basket
full
of
eggs
oh
what
fun
Then
we'd
fill
it
up
again
with
string
beans
we'd
picked
Then
sit
and
snap
and
chat
till
all
was
done
Grandma
was
so
brave
and
strong,
she
would
chase
A
chicken
round
and
wring
it's
neck,
chop
off
its
head
While
I
squealed
in
delight
as
it
took
off
running
Way
down
the
road
till
it
dropped
down
dead
That
chicken
would
taste
mighty
good
for
dinner
With
our
string
beans,
nothing
goes
to
waste
here
she
said
Saving
the
feet
and
I'd
watch
as
she
pulled
the
feathers
out
She'd
make
more
new
feather
pillows
for
every
bed.
I
remember
how
plump
and
soft
those
pillows
were
When
I
climbed
up
on
her
bed
or
had
a
pallet
nap
But
nothing
compared
to
the
softness
and
warmth
Of
My
Grandma's
natural
pillows
as
I
sat
upon
her
lap.
An
Angel
Original
©Copyright
Paula
Scola
2004
All
Rights
Reserved
MY
GRANDMA
KATIE
LEONA
HARRIS
BRAMLETT
BORN
11-19-1892
DIED
7-29-1968
midi
playing-Until
We
Meet
Again
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