A Small Room

What a small room - my finger traces dust across the plain table. What did Grandma DO here? I glance around for electrical sockets - none to be seen. Her life was spent staring out the window, at 3D life, but only seeing memories. I go to the wall and test the switch a bare light bulb illuminates an area with a hot plate. "Jesus", I mumble. Why would she live in this shabby room? Was this a punishment? Like a place where a nun would live? No, *I self correct in my mind* Gramma was the sweetest person on earth. I walk three steps, twirl and flop on my back, on the bed. Dust explodes off the bare mattress in the sunlight slanting through the grimy, half-open, shade-less window. I wave and blow the dust away and now I'M lost in memory.. She was ninety-three - I never heard her say an unkind word In that tiny, sand-papery whisper of a voice. She always wanted me to sit in her lap, she wanted to brush my hair. From 10 on I was bigger than she was and afraid I'd break her. "Don't you worry over ME", she'd say with a chuckle, "I'm an old piece of leather." Her cheeks were pink and wrinkled like old rose petals. Her hair a white bun. "I miss you Gramma", I whisper.