Five years she fought. Battled. War upon her fragile temple.
The sun was teasing me as it rised over the hills. My phone rings loudly. Left hand on the wheel, my right hand digging deep in to my purse pulling out everything but my phone.
"Hello"? It was my mom.
"Hey Megan, what are you doing"?
" Just driving to work"
" Megan I want to tell you something"
"What"
" Lucy died this morning. 3:30am."
Oh.... my... God.
She wasn't my grandmother but she was a grandmother figure. My grandpa married her shortly before I was born. They had a farm and a ranch that sat on many acres. I loved being out there. I was a needle in a hay stack. Climbing the hay stacks.
She lifted me up when the angry turkey charged me. I hated that turkey. Mean turkey.
I named a cow Sugar. She was black and white. I loved that cow. My grandfather wanted her sold. Lucy made sure she wasn't. For me. Just me.
Once, I cried for my father as I watched him drive away with my mother. Up the rocky hill. Out the gate. I didn't know what vacation meant at that age. All I knew is they were disappearing. My pink polka dotted suitcase sat beside my light up shoes. With pink laces. She held me in her arms. Stroking my hair as I buried my tear streamed face on her shoulder. She consoled me. She swayed me back and forth. Shushing me gently. She hummed a little.
That night she taught me how to sing the itsy bitsy spider.
So, while the people she loved slept with the stars, up the water spout she went. Down came her rain.
Somethin sweet awaits her tonight. Somethin sweet.
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