“It reminds me of molasses.”

“I don’t know what molasses is.”

“How do you not know?”

“I mean, I’ve heard of molasses but I don’t know exactly what it is.”

“I’ve failed as a Grandmother.”

“Well, what is it? Like, sugar?”

“I think so.”

“You don’t know either.”

“It’s hard to explain. I’ve tasted it. I’ve seen it. We used to make molasses cookies, your Grandfather and I, right here, in the kitchen.”

“When’d you stop?”

“Well, I can’t right remember. Years. It’s been years. You Grandfather passed away a long time ago.”

“I remember him.”

“You do?”

“Well, some things. I remember his cooking when we came over for dinner. Purple mashed potatoes.”

“Those were my potatoes.”


“What else do you remember?”

“He had a great big beard.”

“Yes, he did.”

“And he always shook my hand. Yeah, he taught me what that meant. He taught me how to shake another man’s hand.”

“You were so young. It’s amazing you remember that.”

“When did he die?”

“Ninety seven.”

“I would have been three. Wow.”

“Oh, darling, thank you.”

“What for, Grandma?”

“For the visit! Thank you for coming to see your old Grandmother.”

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