Mom always hated grandma’s house.
She complained constantly. “It’s like living in a funeral parlor. Flowers everywhere and all that ridiculously ugly gold crap. Hideous!”
Thankfully. Gran refused to change a thing.
Everything was old and kinda tacky but real. That’s what made it special. Her too. She was my safe place. A counter to mom’s incessant need to keep up with whatever was trending while claiming she was “keeping it real.”
So when I came home and found her cradling gran’s favorite gilded roses to her chest. I knew. I’d be keeping it real now. Like it or not.
Written for Friday Fictioners. Thanks for the photo Rochelle.
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Tina Stewart Brakebill 