My grandma lives with my dad.
On Sundays, I used to visit her while my dad went to church.
I do her hair.
I use lots of hairspray.
I give her a make-over.
I ask her questions like, "Are you feeling Mocha Freeze lipstick or Pink Sorbet lipstick today?"
I go through her jewelry to find a necklace which matches her nighty.
I use lots of hair spray, again. I love hairspray. It's ingrained in my heart, forever.
She's a good sport.
My sister and mom would come over late afternoon-ish and join in the fun. Cooking, playing with kids, and catching up with my dad.
My dad had a small operation so grandma is staying with a relative whilst he recovers.
I use any and all opportunities to use the word "whilst".
Whilst my mom and sister cook dinner, I get my grandma cozy and snuggled into an oversized chair in my dad's living room.
I'm good at creating nests.
Dad gets time with my sweet nephew. My sweet nephew makes sure my dad reads 56.5 books to him.
Grandma gets a good meal in her tummy.
Last we broke bread, she was diggin' mom's cornbread with a whole stick of butter on them.
Very low cal.
Dad gets a hot meal and a break.
Grandma takes naps to old time Country Music tapes.
I tell her all about my steer and my ducks.
I fluff up her hair and put more hair spray in it. Don't judge me.
My parents catch up and communicate about their jobs, Obamacare, the weather, their kids.... My heart takes pictures like this one.
I miss those Sundays.