To Myrick’s store we then went out, with the horse and buggy that Grandma would drive about. Then back to the farm we would go, and

set beside the

warm kitchen stove. We would rock

and sing to the tick of the old mantle clock, till Grandma

called supper

at four

O’clock. Sometimes

to the parlor we would go, it was off limits to us children you know. We would look at old pictures of bygone days, and wonder who were those bearded men bringing in hay. We wouldn’t sit on the parlor chairs, because Grandma would hear the squeaks and say is that you children in there. Silently to the door she would come, combing her long grey hair that she neatly wound around in a bun.

On Sunday with Grandma in the parlor we would sit, she would read stories from the children’s Bible, then tidy the parlor up a bit. Grandma wore her dresses to the toes of her shoes; she looked like an angel in her colors of white and blue.

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