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“Hi Grandma! I miss you!” I heard him squeal through the earpiece. I cherished these years, for I knew that within a few more he would be plagued with puberty, and I with Alzheimer’s, or a similar mentally incapacitating disease, and that our special relationship wouldn’t be able to endure these extreme conditions. He was grasping for the reigns of “maturity” as I was retreating in the face of menopause, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before our relationship was reduced to family reunions and Christmas dinners. It was only a matter of time…yet I felt, I wished, it could last forever.
"Hi Brandon! How are you?" I shouted back in an equally childish tone. I missed him so. I longed for him with all my heart. He was the only person that mattered in my life – everything else had faded into a gray-dull background of memories. Three years ago, on December 3rd, 1999, my
. . .
I glanced up at the porcelain figures that rest atop my refrigerator, who incessantly glared at unseen prey. Or at least I hoped I had and that his laughter was not a result of Eva or Gabe's incessant tickling. Assuming that I'd be home later in the day, I chose to keep my visit a secret, even from my husband. I didn't really care much for Eva and Gabe; they seemed very "phony" to me.
"It's Saturday gramma!!!" he giggled.
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