but words will make me go in a corner and cry by myself for hours.”
- Eric Idle
I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, in reality. I only knew that something in it gave me a peace I hadn’t felt in a long, long time, and I remembered that no matter how much I screwed things up, someone much bigger than me always loved me anyway, if I’d just let Him. And that peace would last me for at least a few minutes, before the tyranny of the immediate threw me into a tailspin one more time.
Suddenly I was face to face with my Grandma Daisy, her large, warm brown eyes drilling into mine with an intensity I only knew otherwise by looking in the mirror. Her face was aquiline, almost razorlike, the cheekbones formed from the Cherokee blood that flowed to her from the Oklahoma soil she was born on. But the eyes, her Daisy eyes, were soft and kind in contrast, and from behind them, her mouth not moving, she spoke to me.