Grandma
I sit watching my 90-year-old grandmother prepare dish water. I watch her and my 92-year-old grandfather wash dishes. My father walks away because either he knows or doesn't want to watch. I offer to help - she won't let me. My grandmother is sun-downing before my eyes. And the sun is setting outside the west window. The clouds are orange and purple. It's lovely out there, but stormy in here. I want to go back to this morning - back when my grandmother knew who I was and why I was in her house. Back when she was laid back and let us do things for her. Back when we could suggest something without yelling. So much yelling. No matter how loud our voices are Grandma still doesn't understand. That was hours ago, but it seems like decades. My grandmother yells at my father because he's not dyring a plate correctly. My attention snaps back to the sink as my father belligerently tells my grandmother "...