Grateful #11

Here's a pic of Gram with her brother Bruce. I don't think they look too much alike but I see Uncle Bruce's face in many of Gram's descendants so there must be some resemblance there.

I miss you Gram. I'm grateful that I knew you.

Making Do, Part 2:

Everyone who lived in Gram’s house had his or her own room. Even Gram. She had a regular bedroom with our Grandfather, but also a little room that was richly cluttered with the things that represent all femininity. She called this bright and cheery space her sewing room, but none of us had ever seen her sew. It had a door to the outside. This door must have been the front entrance of the house, but no one had ever been known to go in or out of this way. Everybody always used the back door.

Aunt Michele had a door in her room that lead right into the bathroom. Everything about Michele’s room amazed me. She had her own closet, her own dressing table. This seemed to be the ultimate luxury. She is only a few years older than I, and seemed to possess everything I could ever want. Her room was trendy and beautiful. Gram decorated it herself.

Uncle Jeff had his own room too. He had a radio all to himself, his own bathroom, and his own back door. These things amazed me.

Gram moved out of her house to live closer to us when I was entering adolescence. Along with my grandfather and my aunt, she moved into a tiny duplex that held no secrets, no surprises, only strangers who lived right next door. When we visited we could hear their sounds.