my old fart

I Love my grandmother. She's always around when I need her, she's got some sage advice somewhere in her noggin that just begs to be mined, and she sired my quirky and irreverent father.

Thing is, I didn't grow up with her omnificent presence. She moved away from us and transferred to this locale roughly eleven years ago. Thus, I am only really getting to know her.

Lately, I've been seeing more of the old coot.

It's not entirely a bad thing. She gets to tell me stories of things past, and I could possibly learn more about my family than any other way.

She's told me of her youth and why she likes having her own place.

Recently, I've been driving her to and from my uncle's abode. She whispered to me one time how tiring it was to baby sit her younger grandchildren.

In truth, she'd probably miss them even more if she didn't get to see them in such a daily basis.

I know, I'd miss her.