Truth Behind Lies

It was the summer of my eight grade year in middle school and living in Georgia was like a heat stroke. I sat on my grandmother’s Shelia porch and sipped her cool lemonade as she fanned herself and stared at the sky. "Grandmamma what are you looking?" I asked her in curious tone as I took another sip. She simply looked at and said with the most flow in her voice "Child I look at life" and her eyes went right back to the sky. I admired her from afar and though to myself "Who’s life was she staring at?" I don't know why but I had a fascination with my grandmother. She never took a picture or had just one of herself but keep one of everyone else. Even people she barely knew. Being fifty-two she never learned to read or write but she cook and give. I never asked her why of any of these things because it was like a unspoken bond between me and her.

It was around ten thirty p.m. when my mom pulled up in her white 2006 Malibu. It was always hard for me to tell my grandmamma bye because of how attached I was but she simply said "See you tomorrow because I will be right here" and that is how we left it. As I opened the door and stepped in the car I felt nausea's I always did but just looked towards her window only to see my grandmamma peeking out the blinds and a smile couldn't help but spread over my face as we drove away.