My Grandma Frances, sometime in the forties, I am guessing, my very favorite photo of her. She would have been ninety years old today, always proud to be a New Year’s baby. I woke up early and sang her a song in the bath. She would have liked it, would have laughed and kissed me on the forehead with her coral lips.

She’s been with me a lot lately. The scent of her in passing, the chewing of her favorite (now mine) Wrigley’s Spearmint gum, and her car, which I have spied in a myriad of places around town. Best was when she visited me in a dream, rattling around in her house, wearing her navy blue dress with sheer sleeves and pleated skirt, the one she kept for best. She wants her story told. I am working on it.