When I stayed at her house growing up she would fish through the trash for used ones "This one's only been blown in one or two times! Don't be wasteful, Brooke" and stuff them in my pockets, still wet. A lot of times I felt pretty sure they weren't even mine.
She also had a rule that if you cried you had to sit alone in the garage with the lights off. If I ever spend time in prison I will owe the ease with which I adapt completely to the time spent at my grandmother's house as a child.
Sometimes I think about throwing away a completely un-used Kleenex just to balance things out, in like a really well-adjusted way. Regular ones, not the kind with lotion. Throwing away Kleenex with lotion is the kind of thing that gets you put in jail.
This is me and my grandmother. We look alike. She wears a locket with a photo of her at age 5 and me at age 5, because I guess at age 5 we looked even more alike.
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