“Grandma, why does great-grandmother’s head shake?”

“She’s just old.”

“Why doesn’t your head shake?”

“I’m not that old yet.”

I wondered if my head was going to shake when I got old.  That’s mostly what I remember about her. That, and some whiskers she had that would scratch my face when I kissed her.

I remember crying when she died. She was my first death.  And it was then that I knew things had changed.

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