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Grams and Tonic MAG
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.