This is the type of memories I want to give my own grandchildren. How do I go about doing that, though. Well I ever be remembered in this loving way?
As I recovered from each chemo, I often wondered what it would be like if my Grandma was still alive.
I imagined myself staying at her house or, rather, a one bedroom apartment in the city. A fifth floor walk up, I used to run up the stairs, sometimes taking two at a time.
Breathless, I would ring the doorbell, a black toggle switch on a square white plate. I would hear the tinkle of the peep hole cover and in the next second the door would open and my Grandma would have the brightest smile on her face, her eyes lit up, her arms outstretched inviting for a hug.
I would bury myself in her soft embrace as she would kiss my forehead with a loud smooch and usher me inside, into the tiny hallway.
It was so small, she had to step into…
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