She laughed too.
Our flight was called.
Grandma stood.
She picked up her suitcase.
And together, we walked toward the gate.
No one was waiting to abandon her.
No one was holding her money.
No one was deciding where she belonged.
For the first time in years, Grandma Hazel was not someone’s mother.
Not someone’s beneficiary.
Not someone’s bank account.
She was simply Hazel.
