my grandmother and i

My grandmother was born on May 3rd 1907. When asked her age, she will tell you she is 95. Old people like to tell you their age in the traditional way. She is actually only 94, using the old method of calculation; I don't know where she gets the extra year from. If you think my grandmother gets confused the you are completely wrong. Without looking at the calender, she always knows exactly how many days there are between visits by my mother and I. As I write these lines, I have a picture of grandma in my head: she follows us with her eyes as she stands at the window. It is an image I just can not erase from my mind. Every time we come to see her, it's not long before she asks us to leave again, but then when we do, she says nothing; she just stands on the tip-toes of her tiny feet at the south-faced window. I dare not look back for fear of meeting her gaze because I never know if it is going to be the last time I see her alive. Let's face it, 94 is not young. I dread the day she passes away.