I’m sitting at the kitchen table with Grandma H and she tells me, “We have to go back to the cemetery. We made a mess of the graves.”
My jaw drops.
“We put those fake flowers where the crocuses will come up. And the crocuses haven’t come up yet because they know they aren’t supposed to.”
The heater pings.
My mom asks, “What was that?”
Grandma H says, “The spirits.” She bursts out laughing. “No, just the heater.”
We are at a little picnic at my aunt’s house. My dad moves his chair back near the sliding glass door.
Grandma H says, “Don’t sit there, you’ll back into the glass and get decapitated.”
I ask, “Decapitated?”
She nods. “His head will come right off.”
We are talking about my grandfather’s bad driving.
Grandma H says, “He couldn’t really move, he had a fat neck. Seventeen and a half.”
Grandma H tells us about her last trip to the casino. “A guy sat down beside me. He had a scab on the side of his head. I couldn’t help looking at it.”
“What did you say?” I ask.
“Somebody hit you?”
“What did he say?” I ask.
“No, I fell on the floor,” she says. “So I told him, ‘It looks painful.'”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. He got up and moved away from me.”