It seems I always needed a little extra assurance, and she was more than willing to give it to me. I was still at the picking up and putting down phase. Old enough to walk, or at least waddle, but the need to have my grandma near was stronger than any urge to wander off, so when she placed me somewhere near her kitchen chores I stayed. I held her gaze as if with ropes. “I’m not going to leave you,” she said. I smiled. And I believed her. I’m not going to say that I didn’t test it from time to time — the speed at which she could apron wipe her hands and grab the sharp object from my grasp. I think we both knew I was too much of a rule follower to do anything drastic, but it was always worth the feeling of her dishwater warm hands around me. 

I sat in the doctor’s office yesterday, hovering somewhere between translation and nerves. Oh, it was to be the smallest of procedures. Nothing really, but yet, I needed a little of that sweet assurance. The French words jumped from his mouth to the tablet and my eyes darted around his desk, landing on nothing short of two warm hands around me. It was a small sack, probably filled with samples from the pharmacie, most certainly labeled by angels, “Elsie sante.” In the decade plus that I’ve been here, I’ve never seen this brand before. But it wasn’t really a surprise. Hadn’t she promised?  I’m smiling. She hasn’t left yet.