I thought Gam was giving me a compliment.
Holy Sheets and Pillowcases.
“Jenny–[mufflemuffle]–looked so beautiful at the wedding. I mean, just gorgeous. Absolutely stunning!”
“No–I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about me! Did you see the pictures?”
She did look stunning at the wedding. Her best friend at Riddle, Betty Trulear, (admittedly the only African American resident in the place and a sweetheart to boot) came over early to do her makeup. She really did look beautiful.
She had been feeling lousy all weekend–weak and tired. She couldn’t walk anywhere without someone’s arm to hold onto. It took two people (my mom and my aunt) to help her to the restroom. And she was grumpy.
“Do you know they’re getting married in a barn? The meal is buffet style! Are they wearing sneakers at the alter? The groom’s not even wearin’ a tux!”
I try to explain to her that weddings aren’t as formal as they used to be. People like to have fun–be themselves. Use colors they like, order in their favorite take-out, and yes, wear Chuck’s at the alter. She wasn’t impressed.
It was a ridiculously fun wedding! But Gam wasn’t feelin’ it. My mom spent the whole night steadying her so she wouldn’t stumble–helping her to the restroom, stopping half-way back to her seat to rest a while because she was so winded. Honestly, we were all pretty worried about her.
But when the DJ started up and it was time to boogie? Holy Moses! A Divine Healing! Pictures to prove it! Either that or somebody didn’t really feel that . . . Anyway. Grandma likes to dance.
You make me. Feel like I'm livin' a teen-age. Dream.