never cared about any of that.
To them, I was just Grandma.
People loved the blends.
Advertisement
Jeffrey grew into a quiet thinker, always reading thick books, while George was the opposite. He was loud, warm, and always laughing.
At night, they would sit at the kitchen table while I packed tea orders.
“Grandma,” George would ask, “did Dad like baseball?”
“He loved it,” I’d say. “Couldn’t throw straight to save his life, though.”
Jeffrey would smile softly.
“Did Mom like it?”
That question came less often, but when it
