The story so far:
I had the greatest grandmother that anyone could want. She made delicious food and would make a feast, incorporating all of her grandkids' favorites into one huge meal. It was like Thanksgiving every day at her house.
When I was three or four, I went to stay with her for a while in her trailer, and she brought out her pet squirrel to show me. That's right. A pet squirrel. I rubbed it and thought it was so cute. And then I rubbed it the wrong way, and it scratched me. Grandma took care of me and wiped away my tears as she stuck a bandaid on the scratch.
She's dead now. And every time I look at the tiny scar on my hand, I remember her.