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layer of butter and then sugar sprinkled on top. The baloney sandwich was also simple, a slice of meat and mayonnaise. Both were wrapped in a piece of wax paper. His lunch box was the shape of a train, metal, rounded on top with a handle. All his food for the day was inside including a thermos with ice tea. Granny handed him his metal lunch box and with a grunt he was out the back door.

Listening, my eyes were ready to be officially opened. I walked into the living room where my brothers were still sleeping. I would slowly slide around the door jam staying close to the wood molding coming into the kitchen. My mother was still at the table smoking. My grandmother standing, ready for the next person. I was in her house. I could hug my grandmother. My face was buried into her large body. This was a body that I could get lost between her breast. All the landscape that we had driven through was her body. I was near her.

I immediately had a place to sit at the table but never in my Grandfathers chair. Even after he was gone it was still his place. I sat facing out looking into the kitchen. I wanted to be able to see my grandmother as she moved and worked. She brought me fried eggs in bacon grease. The edges around the egg were brown and crisp and tasted like bacon. The egg shimmered with a layer of grease. Toast and jelly were set on the plate. The log cabin syrup stayed on the table. My legs dangled over the chair seat, moving back and forth swinging. A haze of smoke, from cooking and my mothers cigarette, settled in the kitchen making the early morning light soft. I was in heaven.

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