So did I.
“You what?” I said.
Grandma didn’t answer me. She opened her old brown handbag. She reached inside and moved a few things around. A tissue. Her reading glasses. A roll of peppermints.
Then she pulled out a small photograph.
It was old. Really old. The colors had faded to that soft orange and yellow that old pictures from the seventies always turn. The white border was creased in one corner.
In the picture, a young woman was standing beside a hospital bed. She was wearing a thin hospital gown. Her long brown hair was hanging down over one shoulder. She was very young. She looked like a teenager. Her face was pale and tired, and her eyes were red, like she’d been crying for a long time.
But she was smiling.
Because in her arms, wrapped in a white hospital blanket, there was a newborn baby. Sleeping.
