Toots

I remember a Nan who was scared of nothing.
A Nan who always made sure her hair was pristinely permed and in place.
Her nails painted in a deep pink, with the same diamond earrings and matching necklace that she had worn long before I was born.
She would always make it her priority to ensure that my sister and I felt safe and at ease in the comfort of her home as we were handed endless cups of her best tea and toast.
She was strong.
She was courageous.
She was limitless.
The memory of her heart attack has faded. The drastic decline in her health sits vividly.
Her glow has become delicate, but she’s still so brave.
As our relationship subtly shifts, step-by-step I remind her of the Nan I am proud of, that exists in my memory as she continues to regain her strength.