There are grandmas. And then, there are Me-maws. I had a Me-maw.
As a boy I went to her house often. Special moments were Sunday’s after church when my family got together and turned the peaceful ambience of her home into playful chaos. My sister and I wrestled and nitpicked. Dad and I whipped each other with wet towels we had used to dry the dishes. The real fun was seeing who would end up with the bright orange, “Special $.99” sticker from the chip bag, on their back. After lunch, we napped, played cards, or watched football.
I lived every kid’s dream of being loved.
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