Provisions

In three days it will have been a month since I received the news. It feels like a whole lot longer than that. I think I've written about this before, but Doug and I have had our ups and downs. Our apartment is staying really clean these days, because that's what I do when I'm trying not to think about having MS. However, despite all of the downs we've had, God has proven to us that HE really has overcome the world. He has provided for us in ways that I couldn't have imagined.

First, I'll tell about the downs to show greater contrast to the ups..

Some things about the "MS community" that I've been reading about are quite discouraging. If I read, "I may look okay. But I'm not. I don't want you to think I'm okay." (Why, people?! What's wrong with looking okay?) or "MS is not curable. It's not possible." (aka, "You're screwed; go cry."), one more time, well I don't know what I'll do. But it bothers me. No,  MS is not "curable" but that does not mean I should stay stuck in my ways! I will try, try, try, until I can't anymore. We have to rely on the Almighty God for our strength and healing. He may or may not decide to disable my body, but if I trust Him, I will be content.

Also, the heat is getting to me. When I get hot, I get really confused, I drop things all over the place, trip, my left foot drags a little, my legs feel like they weigh about 200 pounds each, and my left eye fogs up. Whenever I'm out in the heat it reminds me that I have MS. I don't like to be reminded of that, especially on a nice summer day.

Treating my MS the way I am (holistically) is not only looked down upon in the mainstream medical community-- it's flippin' expensive. Insurance doesn't cover 9 cups of fruits and vegetables a day and grass fed meat for two people. We're on our own there. Don't get me wrong, my neurologist was very understanding and nice when I told her what I was leaning towards doing. It's just that you tend to feel kind of on your own. Understandably, classically trained doctors don't know too much about natural supplements and whatnot. There's something reassuring about having a doctor to bounce ideas off of and learn from.

Now for the intense answers to prayer:

I've been discouraged about our grocery bill. It's practically doubled for us. Though I'm thankful for the job I have right now, it doesn't cover our grocery bill like it used to. As a result, we aren't as able to help anyone we know who needs help like we have in the past. It feels very self indulgent to use that money on groceries instead. So, one Saturday night when I was feeling low, I prayed that if this is how I was supposed to go about treating my MS that God would make a way.

Literally every week since that Saturday we've received in different ways just enough extra money to pay for our groceries. Every week! It puts a whole new meaning on "saying grace" before we eat. (To be honest, we've never actually done that..) There is no doubt in my mind that the food we eat is provided by God.

I've even had prayers answered that I didn't think to pray. This may seem small and random to you, but it's huge to us. We were running low on food one week, and I wanted to wait at least full week before grocery shopping again. I wanted to buy salmon, but passed it up because it can be pricey. The next day, someone said "Salmon was on sale, so I just decided to buy you guys two pounds of it." How random and cool is that!

This is the most exciting thing to me right now. I found a doctor through a link on Dr. Terry Wahls' website and decided to give him a call and see what he was all about. The receptionist left a message with him and he called me later that night. We talked for a good ten minutes. Unlike a lot of doctors I've seen, he was empathetic and personable. He asked about my life and told me about his. That alone was encouraging to me. He's a board certified physician and has a degree from a reputable med school, which makes me feel comfortable. He told me how he believes in managing the symptoms of MS through nutrition and supplements. He asked what I was doing so far, and I told him I was doing a paleo-type diet. He immediately told me that's a great idea and that his wife is a nutritionist who supports a lot of paleo ideas. He said a lot of times he'll point patients of his over in her direction when they're doing that sort of thing. (I had been wanting to see a nutritionist to make sure I wasn't lacking in any kind of nutrition from this diet, but I knew that conventional nutritionists would shun it.). He also does something called cranial manipulation, which I'm nervous about, but it seems safe and if it can help, I'll try anything. Here's the most wild part of that story:

He asked what doctors website I found his name through and I told him "Dr. Terry Wahls," thinking I'd have to explain her and what she's done for her MS, etc. . . His response? "Oh! Terry?? She and my wife are friends, they talk sometimes." (Seriously! How cool is that? Not only have I found an actually doctor who supports my ideas, but knows the doctor whose stories and information I've been studying so much.

So what have I learned?:

Never doubt God's power and love. I'm blown away by it.

“ For this reason I say to you, do not be worried about your life, as to what you will eat or what you will drink; nor for your body, as to what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing?  Look at the birds of the air, that they do not sow, nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not worth much more than they? And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?"
Matthew 6:25-27

Living This Way

It's been about two weeks since the news has been official, although it feels longer to me. A lot has actually happened since then.

We're eating a "paleo style" diet lately. Mostly, I've been eating tons of vegetables and fruit, some nuts, and a very little bit of poultry and fish. I think it's still too early to see if it's helping my MS, although I do notice something. This could be a placebo effect, or it could be chance. I've had the symptoms from this flare-up for about three months now, so it could naturally be fading away as that's typical with MS. BUT, At the beginning of this whole thing, I closed my eyes and asked Doug to slap my leg. He slapped it, and I didn't flinch at all. It didn't hurt. I felt pressure and knew my leg was touched, but judging by the white hand print left on my leg, I didn't feel nearly as much as I should have. Last week, I tried the same test, and it actually hurt! So I'd say my feeling is slowly coming back. Who would have thought it would be so nice to feel a slap.

This way of eating has really broken me away from my comfort zone, which is good. I am relying on God instead of food for my comfort and satisfaction. Food isn't something that's a comfort anymore, it's just nutrition. God is my only source of comfort. I've had days where I feel like this is useless and I'm doing it for nothing. Everything I've read, and I've taken a few pages of notes, says that there are no controlled placebo effect studies to prove that diet and MS are directly related. In order for something to be scientifically recommended, it needs a control to contrast it. It's kind of hard to placebo vegetables, therefore this method of treatment is kind of sketchy. I read on the national MS society's website that "Most of the claims made for dietary treatments are based on personal accounts, and the reported benefits may have been spontaneous changes that would have happened without any treatment." So, the way I'm doing this is kind of unorthodox, and pretty scary when I think about the future and what it holds.

Another method I've been researching is use of vitamin D therapy. It's been found that a good chunk of people with MS are women, roughly ages 20-50, who live in the northeastern part of America. (I didn't have much on my side, did I?) It's also found that people who live a certain distance from the equator are more likely to have MS. I would say from what I've found that it's almost unheard of near to or south of the equator. Some believe this has to do with the amount of sunlight exposure. There is hope for promising results of new studies to prove that the immune system is positively affected by higher intake of vitamin D. It's kind of ironic because if you have MS, sunlight exposure and the heat that comes with it literally exhausts you.

With the odds somewhat against me, in the mainstream anyway, it's a little scary. I've thought, "What if I'm doing the wrong thing and I end up in a wheelchair in a few years?" and a lot of thoughts like that. I was at the gym the other day riding the stationary bike and my eyes were bothering me. When I get hot I lose most vision in my left eye, so I have to take more breaks than I used to to cool down. I felt discouraged because I was just realizing that my body wasn't as adept as a lot of normal people.

I had my iPod on shuffle, and a song called "He'll Take Care of the Rest" by Keith Green came on. It really was encouraging to hear! A line in the song is "Just keep doing your best, pray that it's blessed, and Jesus will take care of the rest." He goes on to sing a lot about stories of God delivering different people in the Bible. It made me think. God is going to do what he wants with my body, not what I want. I just have to do my best to take care of myself--whether it's medicine or nutrition-- and the rest is up to God. I would even say it's all up to God. That was a great song to come on when I felt like an old lady at the gym, so I petaled on to do my best.

Last night was also really encouraging! I went to a group for people around my age who have MS. I was still the youngest there, but just meeting other people who know what it's like was great. They all seemed like normal people who just have this annoying downfall. It gave me assurance that life can go on as normal, and adaptation to new ways of life is possible. A woman there said the key is to "Accept and adapt." I thought that was cool. I will definitely go back there.

I Have Been Chosen

A part of scripture that God has held in my head lately is 2  Corinthians 12: 1-10. I want to make it clear that I'm writing this not to make people feel sorry. In fact, please don't. That's the all-around wrong emotion at this point. I'm writing this to show what I believe God has chosen me to show: When I am weak, God's strength will be that much more apparent. God calls us to live lives of courage, boldness, and sacrifice. I am going to allow my struggles to help me to follow that.

So, a lot has been happened over the past couple months. It seems like so much of Doug's and my life has been shaken and spinned around. I guess you could say it feels like we've been inside a blender for a while. As soon as life settles down and we think we're a decent tasting smoothie, God presses the mix button, and we're a whole new mixture. The change I'm writing about today is kind of hard for me to talk about, but I feel this is the easiest way for me to tell people.

Yesterday I had a long-awaited doctors apointment with my neurologist. We found out that I have something called relapsing/remitting multiple sclerosis. It sounds freaky, and to be honest it is a little, but it's not as bad a diagnosis as it could be. This type of MS typically comes in waves, and between attacks your body functions completely normally. The attacks can be spaced apart by years or months, it's really unpredictable. Information is all over the internet, so I'm not going to waste much time writing about what happens. All I will say is everyone is different.

For me, around the end of April my toes were numb. I thought it was my boots, so I stopped wearing them. Then I woke up one day and realized I couldn't feel my calves at all, and then I couldn't feel from my hips down. I went to the doctors but I wasn't too worried because I tend to be paranoid anyway. I told her my symptoms and she asked, "Is there anything else at all that you can think of?" I mentioned in passing that I had a weird glare in my left eye, like I had been staring at the sun. I don't even know why I told her because I literally thought nothing of it. I thought maybe because I never wear my glasses (I know, bad.) my eyes were getting tired. She said she was really glad I told her that, because that's what gave her a clue to send me to a neurologist. First she sent me for blood work to see if I had maybe a B12 deficiency from not eating meat. That was negative as well as a Lymes test. I had an evoked potential test that measures brain waves, and they found I had "optic neuritis" which explains the glare...Then came my first visit to a neurologist.

Before I write any more, the very DAY before I woke up and couldn't feel my legs I wrote a poem called "Alive" about enjoying life as it is and being content. It's a few posts back if you're interested. I know God gave me those thoughts. They really prepared me... The me from the past taught the me in the future a lesson. How cool is that?? When I realized this, it was so comforting.

My neurologist sent me for two extreeeemely long MRIs. Well, they were only one hour each, but you try sitting still for that long. It feels like an eternity. The next week I got a call from her saying that the MRIs showed lesions on my spine and brain. At this point, I felt it was sure I had MS. That's one of the tell-tale signs. Doug and I spent a lot of time praying, talking, and thinking about this. For two months we did research on treatments and everything, which I'll get to later. Next came the dreaded lumbar puncture. (ew.)

The lumbar puncture was probably one of the weirdest things I've ever felt. Thankfully it wasn't very painful and I didn't get one of the notorious post-lumbar puncture headaches. I had to spend two days lying flat, but it was worth not feeling like my head was going to explode. God really used that time to show me how much I appreciate my friends and family. I couldn't have married a better man. He helped me do just about everything those days, and didn't complain or seem aggravated at all. I got a lot of calls, kind words, and prayers from my friends, and both of our parents came to visit. My mom brought me a coffee, which is always much appreciated. We prayed with our friends at Bible study, and it was so nice that these people cared enough to spend time praying about this. It was really overwhelming.

Fast forward to yesterday, Doug and I went into my neurologists' office. She told us that everything they found: the MRI and the spinal fluid supported a diagnosis of MS, and everything else it could be was ruled out. She was so nice and answered all of our billion questions. She also offered treatment.

So how am I going to treat it? I'm changing my diet completely. After some research, I found that most of the medications offered have worse side effects than my flare-ups, anyway. From now on (except on my birthday, duh..) I will be eating no grains at all, no dairy, no legumes, no sugar, and supplimenting some other vitamins.I recommend looking up Dr. Terry Wahls on youtube. She is extremely inspirational.

Something I've learned:
 I used to be discouraged about how I look sometimes. Those short legs I've always complained about-- I should be thankful they work. My body was not designed to look good or even work the way I think it should. It was designed to serve my Savior. I can do that no matter where I am in life. This is an opportunity to connect to people that I had nothing in common with before I had this disease. I've struggled with pride through this, as well. I've always been a pretty strong person. I can give Doug a piggy-back. I used to be able to help lift people at work. This disease leaves the possibility (though it's not sure that it could happen) that some day, someone will have to lift me. It's very humbling. The person being lifted can have just as much impact as the person lifting.

I have so much to be thankful for through this. God has never left my side and he never will. I've had a lot of "Why me?" moments and moments where, dare I say it, I was tempted to be angry at God. Doug and I have had low points, and we will have more. It will be a battle, but I see this disease as an opportunity to allow God to show me that he really IS the only reason I walk. He's the reason I see. He's the only reason I exist.
Like Paul, I've asked God more than three times to take this away. He hasn't yet. It seems like God gave me the same answer that He gave Paul:  
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”



~Miranda

Fathers' Day and Dad's Birthday

Well, this is a little late. I wanted to write a little bit about my good ol' pops.

My dad and I were in the newspaper for some festival once.

 My dad has always been one of the most inspirational people in my life. He taught me never to settle--never to take the easy road because it seems more logical. He taught me what a real man looks like. He worked his butt off to give my mom, sister, and me a warm home and food to eat. He was in the navy during the Persian Gulf war. He also let God mold him into someone wise enough to provide spiritual knowledge and wisdom to his children. We are a lot alike, but also very different. Much of my personality-- my hardheadedness, deep thinking (sometimes), and inquisitiveness-- takes after him. Usually, a conversation between my dad and me turns into a debate of some sort, and we've had our share of big arguments, but you know what they say,"Iron sharpens iron."

My parents had me when they were relatively young. My mom was 19 and my dad was 20. Some people see that as too young, but I wouldn't have it any other way. The weird thing is, I actually got to see my parents grow, too! They weren't these untouchable pillars of maturity my whole life. I've watched them grow, just as they've watched me.

I saw my dad's career take off. I remember going to visit him at the Exxon station when he worked third shift. I remember his very first business trip. He brought me and my sister home "Atlanta" t-shirts. And a furby.

I remember right around the time that he found God. We started to go to Fellowship, and I loved going to Sunday school and making new friends (shout out to Sarah and Chrissey). I remember getting angry at my parents when they didn't go to church. I went from all of us living with my grandparents, to living in government provided housing with cement walls (which I have a scar on my forehead to prove), to an apartment, and eventually to a house. I've seen the hard work it takes raising a family, just by growing up in one. My parents always lived openly and didn't keep many secrets from me. If you know my dad, you know he'll tell you how it is when he needs to.

I used to have panic attacks when I was a kid because I was so afraid of things. My dad could somehow always talk me out of it. Every night before bed, he made it a point to read a book with me. He was always so excited to show me a new book. I remember reading a book called "Xanth" with him. I never really understood it, but the fact that he'd read with me was great to me. He would come upstairs and pray with me before bed. He read the first three Harry Potter books to me. We also used to go to a comic book store together pretty often and played Pokemon cards. Now through some of my dad's influence, I've developed a love of reading and writing. Actually, here's a short thing he wrote that he doesn't know I saved, but I did. He wrote it right before I got married to Doug:

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.

Yesterday morning, I was measuring out a few ounces of baby formula. By the afternoon, we were in awe and laughing at Story Land. Last night she graduated high school 2nd in her class. Now today...she's off onto one of the best adventures that life has to offer.

 I dunno, I thought it was very creative.

I love you, Dad! Happy Fathers' Day and happy birthday!

Alive

I wrote this poem today. It's about enjoying life while you're here. Some of my close friends, and even I myself, go through life rushing and stressing out about temporary things that are out of our control.

I know someone, somewhere is probably thinking, "Life's pleasures are not what's important! She should know that!" (To get the full effect of that statement, block your nose and read it out loud.) To which I will hypothetically reply "Herp-a-derp." Because I know that.

 But, our God gives us blessings because we are His children, and He loves us more than we know. We all have some really hard things happen to us, and sometimes it feels quite like life sucks. Some things like lilacs and sour lemon juice and rain are overlooked. They are simple pleasures (Yes, they can be looked at as pleasures) of our  life here on earth.

There is nothing wrong with walking a little more slowly and enjoying them.

-Miranda

ALIVE


Sweet lilacs that bloom in May,
Juices of a sour lemon,
Raindrops on your head—plink!

Slowly--
Surely--
They trickle down your forehead,
Around the curve of your brow,
And make the final plunge to your cheekbone
Where they explode.

You are alive, my friend.
Smell lilacs.
Savor the sour lemons.
For these are pleasures had only
On the way Home.

-MB

LOVE IS

Here are a few ramblings on love....

LOVE IS.

I.

LOVE IS supposedly simple, but I have made it uncannily complex.

Often we get swept off our feet by some romantic idea. We enjoy someone looking in our eyes and making us feel self-assured. Sometimes when I see love between others I become jealous, as if it is something I do not have. If an act of love toward someone is unrequited and I thus flick the person from my brain like an old crumb, I’m saying that I only like the aesthetic beauty of love.

When I browse through other people’s wedding photos, pretending to be excited for them (seemingly an act of love), I’m really only comparing my wedding dress to hers. My sadistic inner person is constantly on a mission to have my bare feet trampled on by her white designer heals, and my self-loathing side wants to take out a calculator to determine who’s love—I mean wedding— is better.
As if all that filth actually has a bearing on unconditional love.

II.

LOVE IS something to be jealous of if you don’t really have it and you think you do.

As little girls we get the idea that love is a few butterflies that tickle the inner walls of our stomachs. Somehow as women we remain convinced of this, and we’re habitually disappointed when we digest our intestinal butterflies. When they’re gone we search for new ones, as if they’re a nutritious snack that we need to give us energy. The truth is, nuts and seeds are a much more substantial snack, and unconditional love never, ever comes in the form of a tickle inside of your tummy. While butterflies come and go, the lie we were taught by the media and whomever else that they are necessary looms over our heads like a heavy rain cloud.

What we need to be jealous of is the kind of Love that doesn’t think of itself— the kind of Love that gives Itself for you. Not the “love” that looks good on the outside. Butterflies in and of themselves are not bad, and you may always get them, but it is what you give that counts.

III.

LOVE IS always willing to get dirty.

How many times have I rolled my eyes or felt dread when someone asks me to do something for them? I’m embarrassed to say that the answer to that question is too big for me to have kept track of. The ridiculous nature of my selfish personality can be demonstrated if you ask me to take a few steps in the other room to grab something for you. Or suppose you want me to go somewhere with you. That’s too bad, because that doesn’t make me comfortable, therefore I will not go. You would be stupid to convince yourself these thoughts have never crossed your mind, too. I know they have.

We’re born to think of ourselves. We come out of our mothers, screaming bloody murder. Why? Because we’re uncomfortable. Our crying keeps our parents up all night. Why? Partly because we’re sitting in our own poop and partly because we’re hungry. We don’t think about our caregiver’s sanity or the fact that other people are uncomfortable too.
And we never really grow out of that.

Parents are the ones who stay up at night and feed us or clean us. Parents are the ones to keep us comfortable, keep us fed. It is all a part of God’s design. They are the ones children rely on, even when they are tired. This is a picture of what we should do for others, whether they are your children, your husband, your wife, your friend, your sister, your brother, your parents, a complete stranger, or worse: your enemy. They come before you, ALWAYS.

We should never grow out of that.

The Last Time

(This is a rough draft... Spelling errors and whatnot included.) Can't believe it's been a year... Miss you Nanny.

The Last Time

November is a unique month. As the steamy August air turns into stinging cold nose-drip weather and the leaves shrivel up and die, families are warming up by cooking together and sharing stories. My November wasn't one to be envied. Quite frankly, my November sucked. I guess I shouldn't call it “my” November. “Her” November sounds better-- Nanny's, that is.
Nanny had a mouth that could tear down the ego of an entire army. In her words “She didn't have a problem telling you where the dog died.”, and it was true. If I felt like I was getting fat, I wouldn't tell Mom or Dad. I went to my Nanny. She would tell me. As a result, she pushed a lot of people away. Not me. Her blunt ax-like opinion was just what I needed.
The end of October was the lowest valley of my what was at the time 19 year-long life. My fiance Doug and I had stopped talking. I was miserable. The 20 pounds of muscle and fat I lost was replaced with 50 pounds of advice, pressure, and grief. “You're too young!”, “Live a little first!”, “Go to France like you've always wanted!”, “Twenty years down the road you're going to look back and regret this! I know I do!” These words were the apple stuffed inside my mouth and people-pleasing mentality was the string that bound my hooves together. I was a dumb and immobile pig on a stick, plumped up with the sour juices of opinion. One person who knew me better than I thought I new myself. One person told me how it was. That person was Nanny.
In early November, Nanny had been in and out of the hospital with congestive heart failure, a hole in her lungs, and a whole list of other problems I can't even remember. Finally she got sent home with the help of the sweet little grim reapers in green scrubs, otherwise known the American people as Hospice. Hospice is a death wish. I knew that. My parents knew that. We informed my sister, Shawna about it. Grampy didn't really talk about it. He did his normal thing-- went to the gym, went to Market Basket at least twice a day, and doted on his oversized Pomeranian. He knew his love of 42 years was on her way to checking out, but Grampy doesn't talk about much. Mom would make the trip to Haverill at least once a day to clean the apartment and take care of Nanny. “Isn't it hard for you to give your own mother a bath?” The once extraordinarily independent red-head said to my mom. “No.” Mom would say back to her with her quiet and sweet smile,“It's just like washing a car to me.” Nanny laughed so hard she couldn't breath. There were a lot of moments like this toward the end. We could make Nanny laugh so hard we'd have to turn up her oxygen. We sneaked her Big Macs and her favorite iced coffee from Dunkin's--a large iced ,extra extra light, with three Sweet'N'Lows. (She'll never know it was really decaf.) We caused trouble at the hospital-- joking with her nurses and writing silly things on her white board. I never would have thought a hospital could be such a fun place.
I was attending school in Durham and frequently made the treck down to Haverill to spend time with her. I'd also call her on my way down to school every day and share with her what I read in the Bible. We talked about it. She gave me her life experience and I gave her mine. We grew even closer in those last few weeks, if that's possible.
The last time I spent with her was a gift from God. By gift, I mean the God of Heaven who knows that without Him I'm incomplete, gave me something that would simply make me happy. I learned a meatloaf recipe, and I thought “Hey, old people like meatloaf, don't they?” I told Nanny and Grampy about it, and they were so excited. “I haven't had a good meatloaf in forevah!” they said to me in their thick Boston accents. It was a plan: That Friday I was going to make them dinner and take it down to their little assisted living apartment in Haverill. I made the meatloaf, never having been so excited about a loaf of meat, made potatoes to go with it, packed it up, and we were on our way.
The ride there was something I really needed. After all the stress I had been feeling with school and life, I needed to let go and be a kid again. So, my sister and I revised every song we heard on the radio to be about meatloaf. The songs came out great. We thought they were hilarious anyway. We arrived and brought the warm meal up the stairs and into their little corner apartment. Excited, we all ate the meal. My grampy ended up choking on it. I, already having a horrible fear of people choking, was terrified. Seeing the look on his face made me want to jump out a window. Thankfully he got it out and all was peaceful again.
Shawna and I sat on their blue couch which was complete with a Thomas Kinkade throw and matching pillows, nanny sat on her usual chair in the corner, and grampy right across from her. We all got to talking and ended up watching my parent's 21 year-old wedding video. Grampy got up and popped it into the VCR, we all sat impatiently while the tape rewound waiting to see Mom and Dad get married. Mom, practically a little girl, walked down the aisle on the arms of my spunky, gray-afro'ed Grampy. There was olive-skinned Dad, skinny and handsome as ever in his navy uniform, waiting like a nervous boy for my beautiful mom. The look on Dad's face when he saw my mom was something I can't forget. I remember thinking in the back of my mind “That's the way Doug looks at me.” But, given the circumstances, I pushed it even further back.
The tape went on to the reception. Nanny, a five-foot-ten-inch red-head wearing a long black beaded dress with a matching black bird-cage hat was doing the jitter-bug with Grampy, the cute, George Jefferson-like man. To see both of them so much younger and so able-bodied was incredible. Nanny, who is sitting across from me with swollen ankles in her lofty brown recliner was the same Nanny doing the jitter-bug on my grandparents 36-inch Sony television. It was surreal.
“Wow!” I said. “Look how young you all are!” I said, awe-struck and trying not to relate this video to Doug in any way.
“Mirn,” (She always called me Mirn),“I'm going to tell you something.” Nanny proclaimed with an empty ketchup-smudged plate on her lap.
“Listen. Just frickin' marry Doug, have babies, eat a meal, and join the rest of us fat-asses!”
I laughed. This was such a “Nanny” thing to say. She was always nagging me about not eating because I was sad. I will never forget that quote.
Grampy and Shawna played with the plump Pomeranian named Brady while Me and Nanny looked through piles of those old lady nick-knack magazines. We both share a love for sunflowers We collect sunflower anything. So, we spent at least an hour rummaging through these trying to find anything sunflower. I had a moment. While I was staring at her rose-bush-tattooed left hand that was so familiar to me at the time, I realized that this night was just like the old days when I would sleep over Nanny and Grampy's.
It was getting late and they were both tired. Me and Shawna hated to leave, but it was time to go. We packed up our things and headed out the door. I gave Grampy a big hug and kiss on his scruffy cheek that always smells like aftershave. I slowly moved on to Nanny, almost like I was savoring but didn't know it at the time. I put my hands on her thick, red hair that I've always been envious of, and gave her a kiss on her cheek. The specific smell of menthol and her perfume stained my nose. Shawna followed after me.
“Bye Nanny, love you.” I said walking out the door.
“I love you Miss Me-Ernie. Aren't they beautiful Mopa?”
Her voice trailed off into the distance as we made our way down the hallway.