WRITING PROMPT: A TALE OF DUALITY
Please, No Samples
That means you, Grandma!
It was the best of times and the worst of times for Grandma Edna. Fifty years of taking care of a man who sits on a recliner and gets drunk was too much to bear for any woman. But now, she was free. Her husband died of a brain aneurysm while watching a televised football game.
My father said, "Too bad Grandma has a bad heart and is too old to enjoy her freedom."
"She seems happy to me, Dad. She has fun with her girlfriends on bridge night."
Every Sunday, especially in winter, I walked to Grandma Edna's house, only a few blocks away.
"Do you want to help me go shopping?" she asked.
Shopping with Grandma used to be simple. She handed me the cans of cherry soda or Chicken of the Sea tuna, and I threw them into the cart like I was dunking a basketball. However, once Grandpa died, she changed. She was no longer the quiet, demur granny who baked cookies and gave money to Catholic Charities—she was now a shoplifter.
If she saw some Oreo cookies on the shelf, she'd stop, cut the package with her long fingernails, and take a few. She'd have a cookie for herself and give me the other. Then she'd put the package back and buy an unopened one.
