With his arm around her waist, he gently guided her up the wooden steps and opened back door with the black skeleton key, guided her through the large screened in porch and into the kitchen all the while making sure she didn’t bump into anything. The gauze pad over her eye was a protection but also a hindrance to her navigation as she shuffled over the old linoleum floor that had aged just as she had.
Hushed tones of adults who awaited their return added to the bewilderment of the young children with them in the adjoining room. The sound of the swamp cooler muffled the quiet conversations the children tried to hear as they wondered about the whereabouts of their grandma.
Whispers ceased as the swinging door was slowly pushed opened and they watched grandma make her way across the room to ease into her favorite wooden rocking chair where with magnifying glass in hand she checked the newspaper to see how the Yankees had done while she was gone.
The adults mused, well she may have lost an eyeball, but she is still in the game.