Oh yes, I remember her.i imagic her. The way her hair smelled like food and every time she bent down to pick me up, it brushed against my face. I remember the way she laughed often and easily, her voice a chime of happiness. I remember that she seemed to always be awake. She wasn’t one of those grand ma”s who liked to sleep in late and have breakfast in bed.
One night, I woke up in the middle of the night and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. There she was, a cup of persian tea in her slender hands, staring at the fridge. I watched her in silence for a moment. She was so still. As if she were contemplating something. I had the overwhelming feeling that I didn’t really know my grand mother at all. But then, she saw me. “What are you doing, mamani?” I asked. She snapped out of her trance. “Just taking at the pills, June Bug. Do you need a glass of water?” She always knew what I needed.
She was just that way. People are amazed that I remember so much about my grand mother, because the heart attack took her. I think her love for me pressed those memories into my heart and mind forever. I remember her telling me, right before she died, that she will always be with me, watching over me like the moon.
Oh yes, I remember her. I imagic her.
