Spring with Grandma H



Last weekend, Mom and I took Grandma H to the cemetery to clear the leaves from her parents’ and sisters’ graves. Grandma H steps out of the car, looks around and says, “Everything is so dead here.”

Mom and I look at each other and erupt in laughter.

Mom gently reminds her, “This is a cemetery.”

Grandma H chuckles. “No, not the people. I meant the grass and the trees.”



Grandma H and I are driving and we go by the spot where someone committed suicide. She says, “He got the neighbor’s wife pregnant while her husband was away and couldn’t handle it.”

I ask, “Didn’t they know about oral sex back then? I mean there were ways to have fun without risking pregnancy.”

She gets quiet.

I ask, “Can I ask you a question?”

She goes, “Not about sex.”

“But you have all those years of experience,” I tease.

She chuckles.


My Aunt Cindi asked my mom to pick up a palm cross for my grandfather’s grave.

We take Grandma H all over town with us in search of one.

Grandma H says, “I don’t know why Cindi doesn’t save them each year. Just take the palm off and keep all those yellow ribbons.”

Mom says, “What yellow ribbons?”

Grandma H says, “The ones it’s made out of.”

Mom says, “Those are all from the palm. If we kept the ribbon it’s just the one tiny purple ribbon.”

Grandma H erupts in laughter.



I’m a bit behind on sales reporting. March was a slow month, I only sold 12 books. But April is kicking March’s butt in sales. So yay!


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