She was 65, exhausted, already in pain from her back and knees. But she slammed her hand on the table and said, “He’s coming with me. End of story.”
From that day, she was my whole world.
She gave me her bedroom and took the smaller one.
She learned to cut my hair from YouTube.
She packed my lunches, came to every school meeting, and sat in tiny chairs meant for kindergartners like it was the most normal thing in the world.
We never had much.
No trips, no takeout, no “just because” gifts. If I asked for something extra, her answer was always the same, gentle but firm: “We can’t afford that, kiddo.”
I hated that sentence.
While boys my age wore trendy clothes, I wore hand-me-downs.
They had new phones, I had a cracked old one.
I was angry at her for always saying NO — angry enough to cry into my pillow at night.
MY GRANDMOTHER RAISED ME ALONE AFTER MY PARENTS DIED. Two weeks after her P2
