Sunday's Child ~ Full of Grace

I called my Nan this morning, first thing, mostly because I knew she'd be awake. I caught her on the john and in her birthday suit, which for some reason she felt comfortable enough divulging that information to me. I don't know. At 87, who gives a shit, I guess.

Before she wished me a happy birthday she told me all about this four thousand dollar check she received and that if she takes it to her bank she'll somehow get an additional forty thousand dollars from some Chris Roberts at the Golden Globe Awards. Old people can be so naive. It scares me. Scares our whole family.

She asked how old I was and told me that when she was my age she was finished having her three kids and her mother that year had helped her sew mother/daughter dresses for Easter. Something about the french stitches being all backwards itchy and some such detail I can't recall. She also told me that she was born on a Sunday morning at 7a.m. and that the church bells from the Polish church on Willow Street in Swoyersville were chiming. She told me that each of her children were born on Sundays and in the mornings as well and so was my Pop.

We spent about ten minutes on the phone, which is a fairly long conversation with my Nan, as she spends most days getting her hair done and playing poker. She wished me a happy birthday and when we hung up all I could think was, ' Is she still naked?'.