My grandma has forgotten the word for Mahjongg. She keeps asking to play yoga.
I think about what that might mean.
She’d be teacher. Her poses would have names like desserts: the rugelach, the macaroon. I’d contort myself, wobble, fall. We’d both laugh.
From the closet, I get the tiles.
Brooke Randel is a writer and copywriter in Chicago, IL. Her fiction has been published in Ropes, Two Cities Review, Punchnel’s and Beecher’s Magazine. She’s currently co-writing a memoir with her grandma.
Love it!!!
Lot’s of Love in the story as well!
This is very nicely done. I think this could be viewed as poem as much as it is a story.
That is my life! Oh my gosh it’s my daughter embracing my mom aging! Kudos to my insightful daughter, the author. Love is in all things.
I love this.