It had been around seventeen years ago that I had last visited my grandmother. I was about 10 years old and was told by my dad not to contact her without his discretion. Time went on and I consistently asked about her and my aunt and cousin but my dad said they were busy and we would go visit them soon. Seventeen years later and three weeks ago I got a call from him telling me that my grandma had breast cancer and she would be going to a hospital to get the lumps removed. I immediately cancelled my weekend plans and booked a hotel in San Antonio. My dad and sister were supposed to meet me down there but both flaked at the last minute, so I made the journey with my friend.
After checking into the Super 8 Motel I called and asked when would be a convenient time to visit everyone and my grandmother said not today. I asked if tomorrow would be better and she said she was in too much pain and did not think it would be a good time. My aunt snatched the phone out of her hand and told me to come by in the morning and we would all catch up.
We arrived at their house around 10:30 in the morning and the first thing after hugs and smiles was the eerie recognition of their voices and mannerisms. I felt so comfortable like I had seen them recently and we had a great visit. My grandma was so much peppier than she had sounded on the phone. She was full of life, sass and a dirty mouth to boot just as I had remembered her. My aunt told me that she adored fried chicken legs and cardboard boxed sweets and
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