stories before me

It seemed like my parents were alive for a hundred years before I was born. Then, all my siblings came along and lived what seems like decades before I finally joined them. But, the advantage to that is that there are a thousand tales that have been passed around about all the things that happened before me.

So as the story goes, when my mom was young, her mom and her were home alone one hot summer day. Grandma was outside and found a pack of cigarettes in their front lawn and so grandma did what any sensible mom would do, she smoked a cigarette with her young, innocent daughter, my mom.

That's really all there is to the story. But, I find the mental image immensely amusing.

My grandma died of cancer a year before I was born. No need for worry, it wasn't lung cancer, and from what I understand, the shared cigarette from that summer day was the only cigarette that my mom or grandma ever smoked. But I have taken the pictures I've seen of her and the stories I've heard about her and have created quite an image of this woman--my Grandma--in her Ohio home.
And I smile every time I think of this mysterious grandma of mine smoking a cigarette with my little formidable mom.