Red Lipstick

I'm missing my Gram today.

I grew up in a suburban town in New Jersey. My house wasn't anything special to an outsider, but to me, it was my world. In this little house lived my mom, my dad, my little brother, whatever animal we had and my maternal grandmother. My Gram was my world. Many of my childhood memories involve my grandmother. I spent a lot of time with her. We would go on walks together. While we were on these walks she'd sing to me about "reading and writing and 'rithmetic. She would tell me about the plants around us and how she used them to play when she was a child. She would walk up to the 7-Eleven on a Saturday and pick up some Drake's Coffee Cakes and chocolate milk for breakfast and it would be there when I woke up. On a Sunday after church, I would "drive" her home. I would sit in the front seat and pretend to drive as she drove our way home through the countryside. She would always have Juicy Fruit gum in her "pocketbook".

My Gram smelled of Chantilly. She wore red lipstick and rouge.

She wore clothes that were way out of style, but she didn't care... she was who she was and made no apologies. She was ecentric. She was a potter, a seamstress, a painter, a beautician, a masseuse, a dreamer. She would massage my feet with Pond's Cold Cream and tell me to wear socks so it didn't get on the carpet.

I loved my Gram very much.

Sometimes my mom tells me "You're just like your grandmother."

I smile.

I love when she says that.