Warm and soft, and even though she hasn’t used musk lotion since probably 1989, I can still smell it on her. She envelops me in loud hugs.
She rejoices in singing, in reading a good yarn, in dandling her grandbabies on her knee, in filling a garden with mulch.
And when I complain about life, she says, “Do you want me to listen or do you want my advice?”