old
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There he is; the little old man, his reflective vest, and his silver walker. He’s usually on the sidewalk when I am getting ready to turn to go into my school. He’s moving at a good clip for someone who is using a walker. I notice his legs are strong and muscular. Every morning on…
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I remember Grandma DeKezel, her colostomy bag full and oozing. I remember smiling and chattering and easing her discomfort of being dependent upon my hands. I remember her talk of sex and the loathing she had when Grandpa would touch her – until she was 30. I remember the smile…
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Her hands were bony and strong. Not the hands of youth with its demand to have power and control. No, her hands were strong from living life and a “hold onto me” strength. Those hands held onto me through the entire benediction. At the end there was that extra squeeze. I give it too. It’s…
Great Joy 