(this is part 5 of an ongoing memoir series. Read parts 1, 2, 3 and 4 first for everything to make more sense...)
Those Detroit days were golden. The days before you can really remember all the details. The days before the teenaged angst. Days of learning to ride bikes and sleepovers and being in plays.
Holidays with grandma and my gaggle of cousins.
I loved talking about my grandma last week. We need more about her.
Anthony, with his smirk and that eyebrow. Who left this world too, too soon but still managed to leave a legacy any man would be proud of.
I want the world to be more like her. So I ask "What would grandma do?". She would hug you and feed you. She would invite you to come back again. She would worry about you and fuss over you and sometimes push you a little harder than you wanted to be pushed. But it would work and be good and you'd be glad. She would wrap you in the blanket of her gentle generosity. She would brew her own beer.
She was a convert herself, my grandma was. From Russian Orthodox to Roman Catholic. She was so selfless. She never mumbled about anything being inconvenient or uncomfortable, and in putting others first she found joy and peace.
Because I'm no good at getting up every day and saying "today I will be like Jesus", I am too lowly and weak, I will instead get up and say "today I will be like Kathryn". And then maybe the world around me will start looking a little more like her too.