Great Grandma Mae

By Mae Lowther

Greeting me with a loving smile, thick glasses lying perfectly upon her nose. Curls that bounced every once in a while as she folded the quilts she used to sew. As if her facial features were copied and pasted onto family members that came after her. She had a distinct nose and, on her cheeks, dimples painted. All dressed up in warm-tone colors, as she preferred. For a single-wide trailer, there was plenty of room with a Tupperware tumbler dressed in blue. It was one of a kind, small in size. She saved it for her grandchildren to use. Filling it with fresh sweet tea, she gave it to me.

Great healing for a cold, such a comforting drink. Her strong arms embraced me tightly, as she grinned from ear to ear. A hug similar to this one, framed, tilted slightly, hung on the wall for at least a year. Departing from her was such a shame, her laugh and love, a perfect remedy. The woman from whom I got my name. What an honor to carry on her memory.