the trouble with grandma
“What are we going to do about Grandma?” my sister Sharon asked. I sighed. Grandma had always been a problem, and something had to be done about her, now that my sister Sharon was moving to Tennessee. Away from the cold, coastal rain and into the humid heat. Away from the town where we grew up. Away from family ties. We sat on the floor in the bungalow’s bare-walled living room among the packing boxes, strapping tape and sacks of packing popcorn, wrapping stemware in dishcloths and towels. I was staying but I sure as heck didn’t want Grandma.