Grandma

Nothing is the same at my house anymore. Not since Mom brought my grandma home to live with us. Dad wanted to drop her off at a homeless shelter. Mom said, “Absolutely not.” Now, Dad doesn’t speak to anyone and started drinking more than usual.

Grandma talks to herself and she smells bad. Yesterday, she was bloated and was passing gas that would gag a maggot. We locked her in the spare bedroom all day, but we do that a lot. Maybe that’s why she talks to herself.

On good days we let her sit in the living room on one of those chairs made especially for old people. It goes up and down and tilts. My little brother, Tommy, has a lot of fun with it. He sneaks up on Grandma and pushes the tilt button. We both laugh every time she falls forward and does a somersault.

She has a cheap locket, referred to as the ‘Guilt Gift’. When she has her lucid moments she says, “Susan, your grandpa gave me this locket fifty years ago after I caught him having a tawdry affair with a blonde floozy.” Mention grandpa’s name and she curses like a sailor. Now, Tommy swears just like Grandma.

When we are really bored with Grandma and we get tired of the tilt game, we let her sew. She can’t, but she doesn’t know that. It’s amazing how funny it is to watch a senile woman try to thread a needle. It’s not as hilarious as the head over heels somersaults, but still good enough for a few laughs.

It isn’t always terrible or funny having Grandma around. At the moment she isn’t bothering anyone, she’s sleeping at the dinner table with her face buried in a plate of spaghetti and meat balls.

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