My Granny

Hannah Reilly

Theres a vivid memory of my granny that stands out in my mind, mostly because Im the only one who will remember it as sadly, my granny is suffering from senile dementia.

When I was younger I would religiously stay with my granny every Saturday. My granny would run me a warm bath, over flowing with bubbles which always brought a smile to my pre-pubescent face. The bubbles would stick to my face, arms and even in my hair and wouldnt dissolve for some time after. I would splash around in the water whilst my granny would sit on the seat of the toilet and laugh along with me or tell me a story from that day, whether it be about the neighbours or what daytime TV programme she had watched that day. She would wash my hair for me, rub in the shampoo that tingled my sense of smell until it lathered. She had a jug that was kept in the bathroom which she would fill up to wash away the soap from my hair, one hand over my eyes so it didnt sting. After that, she would get me out the bath and bring over a towel that she had thoughtfully put on the radiator.

Once I had got into my jammies, we would go into the living room where my granddad was, watching the TV. I would sit on the floor and my granny behind me on the couch. She would run her fingers through my hair and pleat it down by back, her rings rattling in my ear as she did so. By the time she was finished I looked Pocahontas, which I loved the thought of.

The 3 of us would watch TV for a while then my granny would take me up to my bed and tuck me in under the toasty layers of bedding and she would kiss me on the head and tell me she loved me, I would whisper it back and drift off into a dream of being an Indian squaw.