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Grams and Tonic This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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Light-up shoes were so '90s.
But my grandmother doesn't think so.
She apparently still thinks they're in style.
I felt like I accomplished something in life when I passed her by in height.
I was eight.

I swear, the woman is always in her own world.
Humming, laughing, and singing to herself.
I wonder how old she thinks she is –
6? 18? 21?
You couldn't guess by the way she dresses.
One day it's overalls
and the next she's wearing a belly-peeking halter.
Personally, I prefer the fleece penguin pajamas.

I remember she used to have three goats.
Gin, Tonic and Brandy –
also her favorite drinks.
You can always count on my grams to pull out
the step stool
and make her way to the top shelf
to grab her Southern Comfort.
I suppose she feels classy drinking it out of a wine glass.

She walks with her head held high,
a grin on her face.
A denture-less smile.
It scares me a little
but she looks nicer without them.

You know she's in a good mood
when she plops herself at the piano and starts to sing.
Now, don't get me wrong: she has the voice of an angel.
But when either my sister or I act up,
My mom decides who sits next to Grams in church for our punishment.
She sings loud enough for God to hear.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.





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