When 34 and 90 collide…
It’s 12:39am…for most people it’s hours of already nestled in sleep. For me it’s hours of thought. Memories running chaotically through the channels of my mind. My grandma is 90…but is she? When I hear people talk about the elderly there is such a seperation. A lack of connection bc of the generations of distance that lies between the two of us. But for the first time, I’m connected. I realize that though my grandma is 90, to me she is 56, 60, 63,68,70,75…she isn’t a 90 year old elderly woman who is limited to a bed. She is the memories of all those years. She is relatable. She is the walks to the park we took when I was young. She is the nap times on a pallet in the living room floor below the couch while she napped to a soap opera. She is the drives in the blue car with two doors, going 25 miles per hour-slow enough to read all the mail boxes. She is the spaghetti dinner and slumber parties with initial shaped pancakes. She is beach trips and belly laughs tha...