I am still SO angry.  I hadn't realized.  It's easy to push something back when it's not in your face but it's been brewing there at the back of my living all this time and when I looked her in the eyes today I knew the truth...I am still bruised. 

She's so sweet and her eighty-nine years frolic along her aura and she gushes over the kids and she "Oh, time just flies by so fast, doesn't it?"  And when I hug her I want to cry because I hate her nearly as much as I love her and I can't make sense of myself being all kind and all "Oh, it really does!"  And I hate myself as much as she loves me.

She shows me the round pillow she crocheted and gifted to my mother like a child displaying school artwork.  "Must've taken me two weeks," she tells me.

I pull at a loose thread.  I imagine pulling it - yanking out from it's tight tucked stitching - pulling and pulling and knotting it up and curling it round into a right mess and dropping it at her feet and saying, "I made this for you.  This is my art.  I call it Grandpa."

We take the back street on our work errand run because we've been told someone has set old furniture by the curb and who are we to pass up free stuff?  Turns out the old furniture is just a hexagonal side table.  Very 80's.  Very not me.  But...there are also two old, white-paint-pealing, three-paned windows.  Just sitting there like nobody wants them.  G.O.R.G.E.O.U.S.  So naturally, I grab them and run!  And because I just happen to have some vinyl lettering in my craft box, this is what became of them...

I sense a theme occurring.  Because only a couple weeks ago I found windows in the barn and came up with this one:

I am such a dork that the first time I ever read that quote I got all teary eyed and saved the clipping because I knew that someday I'd want it in my home.  And now I have it.  Bliss.