Age to me means absolute unconditional love. What I remember about my grandmother is not her beautiful manicure, I can’t remember her nails. Nor her beautiful hair do, her hair turned white at 20 when she was hiding from the bombs with her cat. She never colored it, never cut it. It was a silky silvery mane, whenever I saw her. She never mentioned her croquet score etc. What I remember about her is that when I went to visit her at 18 years old, she wanted to sleep by the train tracks so she would not miss a minute seeing me and I was arriving by train. When I got there she went to the market a mile and a half away at 4:00 am every morning to get fresh baguette for my breakfast. When I tried to stop her from doing everything for me it was not possible. After I left to see my other grandmother in a different country, she had to stay in bed to recover for two weeks.
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