THE SCARY OLD WOMAN

Remember when you were a kid and your town had a frightening old person who lived in a scary, haunted-looking old house and all the kids avoided walking past it?  And God forbid if ever they encountered the owner.  Once that happened, chances were pretty good you were going to die from some disease, or a curse.  

Well, I think I just figured out how he/she got labeled that way in the first place. Love.  

Last night I talked for a long time on the phone with my granddaughter.  Kaylee is 8 years old and just the light of my life.  All five of the grandkids are lights of my life, but Kaylee being the first, has a special bond with me.  

Before we ended our call, this sweetheart of a little girl said, "Since they tore the old building down, I can see your house from Sixth Street when I go past on the bus every morning.  I always sit where I can see it, and I blow a kiss and say 'I love you, Gramma.'"

If that is not enough to melt your heart right there, then you should go take a really hot shower.

So now knowing this I told her I would put on my bright red fuzzy robe and stand in the doorway this morning.  The only problem was, I had trouble reading the numbers on the gazillion buses going by, so I was waving and blowing kisses at all of them, just to make sure I was there for Kaylee when she came by.  I stood there for about 40 minutes, waving and blowing kisses at school buses loaded with children, in a red fuzzy bathrobe.  

Then, the final bus came up the street, just as I was about to hang it up, and I could read the number on it plain as day...ONE.  And yes, that is her bus number.  Number one is the last bus.  It makes total sense to me.  I waved and blew kisses and hoped she was on the bus this morning.

Now I am back in bed.  I'm waiting for the police to show up.  I think I just earned that title of Scary Old Woman.  I expect tons of kids now daring each other to step on my property and throwing things at me or making the sign of the cross like I might be a vampire.  

Guilty?  Yes, I am definitely guilty.  Guilty of loving my granddaughter so much that I will risk becoming The Scary Old Woman in our city if it makes her happy.