These are two of my favorite pictures of my Grandma Carol. Her climbing a tree and her sitting on a motorcycle with my uncle. I did a sepia type filter over the photos.

Journaling says: My mom tells me stories now that I’m a mom about things her mom would do. She would give teething babies chicken bones to chew on. Grandma was proud of feeding my cousins mashed potatoes when they were a few weeks old. Stories like that make me grin and wish she was still around so I could yell at her for trying stuff like that with my daughter. My grandparents divorced when my mom was young. Grandma found out she had cancer in her mid-thirties. She ended up losing one breast. I always knew her that way and it just seemed normal to me. She lived with my family for most of my childhood. I knew her as a second mom. With five younger brothers and sisters, having her there made me feel special. Grandma would let me sleep with her or cuddle while watching television in the basement. I remember how she smelled, like safe and love if that makes sense. She was silly, sometimes ditzy, and always loving. I remember the time she flushed potato peels down the toilet. Why, I don’t know. But the toilet ended up over flowing and flooded the bathroom. And she loved to use bleach; I don’t know where that came from. She wore house coats and slacks (not pants). She would fill up our kiddy pool with warm water from the tap instead of the cold hose water. She passed away when I was thirteen. I miss her still.

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