Grandma points to a black and white picture on the mantle.  "I was eight years old in that picture.  I was cute, wasn't I? " 

 

The picture is grainy.  Grandma stands next to an old truck with her two younger brothers. Her dress was polka dotted and the boys were shirtless in baggy overalls. There isn't a smile to be found on any of there faces.

 

"Why are you so sad?" I ask.

 

"My daddy had just died.  We were barely making ends meet."

 

I look at her face.  She doesn't look sad.  

 

"Was he nice?"

 

"Who?  My daddy?" She waits until I nod before continuing.  "He was very nice.  He was a hard worker.  I used to hear him chopping fire wood on the weekends.  He'd be singing some song as he worked.  When the Saints Go Marching In was his favorite."

 

She pauses and smiles wistfully.  "I don't ever think I saw him angry.  Just happy to be alive."

 

"My daddy gets mad ... a lot."

 

She reaches over and ruffles my hair.

 

"Things are different now.  Your daddy's a good man.  Don't you forget it."

 

"What are your brothers' names?"

 

She pointed to the bigger one. "That was Raymond.  And the little one was Claude.  I kept those two in line, yes ma'am.  If something happened to them, I got my hide tanned."

 

I frown. "What's that mean?"

 

She laughs.  "I got a spanking right along with them."

 

"Thats not fair."

 

She thinks this is really funny.   "When has life ever been fair?"

 

"But if they were bad ...," I say but she shakes her head.

 

"They were my responsibility.  While my momma worked, I watched over them.  We all had things we were supposed to do.  See, it's easier to keep things going if everyone does their part.  Think about it."

 

"How come she didn't have a babysitter?"

 

Grandma reaches for the picture.  "She did."  She taps her finger on her own image.

 

"Did you get paid at least?"

 

"I did.  I got paid very well.  I never went hungry and had a roof over my head.  I made out like a bandit." She winks at me.

 

"Grandma, do you think we would have been friends if we were the same age?"

 

She puts her hands on her hips and appears to be thinking.  "Oh, I think so.  Now, I'll ask you the same thing.  Would you have been friends with me?"

 

I mimic her pose and think.  "I think we would have been best friends."

 

She hugs me and kisses the top of my head.   "Well then, best friend, have you ever played paper dolls?"

 

"No, what are they?"

 

She sets the picture back on the mantle.  "Wait here and I'll show you what I used to do for fun."

 

As I watch her start going up the stairs,  I catch a glimpse of a little girl in a polka dot dress, eager to share a little bit of her world with me.