Memories of my Grandma Elizabeth inspired me to write this little retrospective. What grandparent memories do you have to share?
In the days following the baby's death, Helena often wondered what she'd do without her mother. Her mom brought her tea on a tray, helped her wash her hair in a speckled basin beside the heater, and took care of four-year-old Aaron. She often sang as she worked: Welch ein freund ist unser Jesu. What a friend we have in Jesus.
Helena's mom's hair was a wavy river, brown at the waist, graying as it approached her face. Every morning Helena and Lenny watched her brush it by the heater. "Don't roll it up, Grandma," Lenny pleaded as the practiced hands gathered the river and braided it into a bun at the back of her head. "Let it hang down."
"Too much to do," said Magda, inserting the imprisoning pins and rhinestone studded combs.