Blog: The Doors of Perception

Written on 15 December 2011.

My grandmother always had a way with language, had, for as long as I could remember, described things in her own, fanciful way.

“I was walking the other day…” she would say.

“Really? You were walking?” my sister and I would tease her, knowing full well she hadn’t gotten out of her wheelchair for several years.

“Well, I was sitting, the nurse was pushing, but you know what I mean…” she’d say with a dismissive wave of her hand and that Cheshire grin of hers that indicated she thought she was being particularly funny or was having a laugh at someone’s expense.

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