thirty/four

dropped this prompt thing right at the end, didn’t I? Here I am four days later.

My grandmother died. She was 98 years old. We had a complex relationship—I was one of a big pack of grandkids, not the favorite by any means. We laughed a lot. She was dryly funny, mercurial in her moods and regimented in her habits. But she was a part of my creative life. S…