by d Frank

Created on: March 18, 2009

She had bright red hair. I remember sitting in the beauty salon kicking my four year old heals together as I played with the giant globe hair dryer. I told her that I was an astronaut, ready to take off at any moment. She laughed, and said that she would be very lonely without her little great grand daughter to come and visit her. She also asked who would her eat her cookies if I was going to be up in space? I promptly decided to stay, I couldn't resist her cookies much less not being able to get grandma's hugs whenever I could. The beautician rolled up her hair meticulously, as they gossiped about the man that had just moved in around the corner.

Unfortunately, it wasn't me that ended up leaving, she moved to Arizona when I was five.

She had always been full of fire, maybe that was why she always dyed her hair red. During her life she had four husbands as I remember, never really speaking ill of any one of them. She ended up raising five sons, only one of which was hers. My mother had told me stories about how she would roam the speakeasies when she was younger. She was fond of music and knew some famous musicians. However, she also shared that she has left my grandfather and his brothers with her sister and she became a groupie for a number of bands. My grandfather also shared how he would have to wake up in the middle of the night to pick her up from a bar because she could not drive. Nevertheless, she had always had the heart for people despite her mistakes. She always lent money when she had it and never turned down a homeless person in need. On more than one occassion she hired them to help trim her yard or paint her house. My mother told me that the only necessities that she ever needed or asked for was her red lipstick and her Jack Daniels.

As I grew older my grandmother and I drifted apart. I was 22 when she died.

For the funeral I was to put together a powerpoint of her pictures that my mother and I had found. I sighed as I carefully scanned and cropped the photos we had pulled from the old, dusty scrapbooks that hadn't been seen for years. As I sifted through the old black and whites I came across a photo of her riding a motorcycle. Flipping through the photos I saw her riding a donkey pulled cart in Tijuana, a picture of her laying on a bear skin in a cabin, her clinging onto a jazz musician, and in each photo she was smiling with dark lips and dark hair.

When talking with my mother about her life, my mother turned to me and said that I reminded her of my grandmother. Full of spirit, joy, and wonderful music.

Now, as I walk into a beauty parlor, I put on my bright red lipstick and smile remembering her, and when I wanted to be an astronaut.

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