and after blankly walking around the house like a shade for most of wednesday, i feel real again, for now.
grandma molly lives in my childhood, i realize. as much as she didn't stop existing when i hit highschool, that's not who she is for me. she's the woman who babysat me when i was little, whose house i'd have lunch at on sundays with my mom, who played card games with me even though i couldn't remember all the rules. she gardened and took me for walks with my uncle's dog (i feel the same about my uncle steve). even though she stayed healthy for most of my growing up, and i saw her as often as most of my extended family, and even though she still exists despite her body and mind having left her a foggy ghost of herself, i can't picture her without picturing myself as very small.
