looking through me

Category: 31 Days: Family

Grandma’s face

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.

 

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not even brothers

One of the most traumatic days of my life occurred when I was five. I lined up with the rest of my class on the kindergarten playground, but my teacher was not there.

We had a substitute.

And I did the only thing I knew to do. I refused to go with a stranger.

As I sat in the principal’s office and she tried to convince me it was safe to go to class and that my teacher would be back the next day I became inconsolable. I believed my teacher would never come back.

Finally the principal called my eldest brother to the office. With all of his fourth grade wisdom he explained the concept of a substitute teacher. He promised he’d had them, and his teachers always came back; mine would too. He hugged me. He sat with me.

I was unswayed. I spent the day in the office.

Sometimes even the words of my brothers weren’t enough to assuage my stubborn fears.

 


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

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