Grandmother and Al
Once she was the only colored cook behind the counter at Woolworth. Now she heats up empty frying pans, her thoughts so scrambled that they don’t turn over easy. She clings to the scrap quilt my mama gave her. Perhaps it reminds her of time. Once she wore new suits from Joskey’s, chocolate nylon pantyhose, two inch square-toed “chu’ch” heels and hats that reached toward Heaven like the holy hands of the “sistuhs” on her pew. Now she wears urine soaked adult diapers and the green “I lost my mind in Vegas” shirt my cousin gave her last July. Once she captivated young...
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