≡ My Grandmother ≡

One image that remains etched in my memory is that of my Grandmother taking a nap.  My Grandmother was a small bundle of endless energy.  She could shop for hours in 2-inch high heels.  She could clean our entire house without a break.  She could make numerous trips up three flights of stairs carrying armloads of my stuff when I moved into my college dorm.  But, I never once heard her say "I'm tired." 

Yet, despite my grandmother's modesty, and her superhuman endurance, there were times when her body defied her resolve.  When I least expected it, I would hear my grandmother's characteristic snore and find her completely conked out, mouth gaping, in our brown living room chair.  In contrast to her usual flurry of activity, as a young child, this was a shocking image for me.  Since she never wanted to show any signs of complaint, (heaven forbid we might think about her feelings for once), I had no idea that my grandmother, like most mere mortals, needed rest.  And, on the rare occasions when her passed out state did not involve snoring, the image of her sitting still was so disconcerting I had to check to make sure she wasn't dead. 

I can still remember the feeling I would have on these disturbing occasions.  My heart rate would surge and my mouth would go dry as I feared my grandmother had said her final kind word and done her final good deed.  In my eight-year-old mind, death could be the only explanation for her extremely still, quiet state. 

Slowly and deliberately, fearing the worst, I would stare at her chest waiting until I was sure I had seen it rise and fall with her breath.  Then, awash in relief, I would realize two reassuring facts:  1.  My grandmother was merely asleep and 2.  She was not a superhuman.  Just like us she too got tired at times, even though, unlike us, she would never allow herself to admit it.