looking through me

I didn’t realize Grandma wasn’t like all the other grandmas.

Didn’t every grandma keep a pair of fake, bloodshot eyes on hand to pop in before opening the front door?

Didn’t every grandma hide her rubber chicken in random places around the house? Oh, not every grandma had a rubber chicken?

I thought they did. Mine did.

As a child I begged her to teach me how to make her face. She taught me how to use my finger to dry my teeth and roll my upper lip under, how to pinch and keep my nose closed, and how to cross my eyes. That was the face she and another secretary perfected in the church office where they worked. Wouldn’t every pastor appreciate being greeted by those faces?

I practiced and practiced the face. My brother—the middle child—had her timing and ability to pull a prank, but I had her face.

This post is part of the 31 Days: Family series. Read the beginning, and see a full index of posts, here.