My Gramma

I imagined my grandmother sitting by me on the couch this evening, watching a movie with me.  It was a strange movie, the kind I would have insisted on watching when I was twenty years old and pregnant, and although she would be hesitant she would oblige.  After all, she was always hesitant with me and my motives in life, however, she was always supportive and loving.  A little sex in a movie never turned her away, if I thought it was good.  I (fucknig) moved the pillow over to make room for her; knowing that she was heavy and couldn't get up very easily, I saved the right side of the sofa as it is not as sunken is as the rest.  She obliged and was thankful for the invitation.  Her hair was full and thick, and her lipstick was on straight.  She always wore bright lipstick, and was a big fan.  It was a feminine thing to her.  She was insistant on asking questions about the movie, as she always was.  I was grateful ( unlike annoyed as previously in my life) and answered each and every question she asked.  I answered out loud.   I wonder, am I crazy?  Possibly.  Maybe I am fucking losing it.
 
Garrett came to me after school today, and he said this: "Mom, you are a totally a different person now that you have Ben."  I responded by saying, "How so?"  He said, "You know, like you don't go to McDonalds all the time, you always take his suggestions, and before you didn't love anyone.  But you love him."  "But, Garrett, who told you that?"  "I just noticed," said the seven year old.  Oh fuck.  How does a fucking seven year old understand the life and times of a twenty something (thank goodness I am not thirty yet) mother?
 
I just wonder how the outside world is percieving me, as well as how my actions are being interpreted by others.  Is my craziness being absorbed by everyone in my life, or are only those close able to pick up my vibe?  My seven year old picks up on subtle things that I wouldn't think any kid could comprehend, and thank the gods that he doesn't pick up the the bigger picture; on all the other struggles i am going through.  In the mean time, I am struggling with normalcy, and trying to just make it through another day.
 
I haven't seen Ben in such a long time.  I mean, he is here, but we are here and there, and not together.  Our work schedules suck.  I wonder if my lonliness is making me long for my Gramma; making me imagine her presence.  She was (an apparently still is) one of my only compandres in this big fucked up world.  Before my love with Ben, she was my only friend who really understood me, and who I was.  She took me without question, without judgement.  She is gone now, and for some reason this week I need her. 
 
She loved my kids, and I am a firm believer that she was there after her funeral, and she played with Nate while he layed on the floor.  Tonight, I would give anything to take my kids to her, to talk to her.  To hear what she has to say about how my life has unfolded in the past three years.  I miss my gramma. 
 
I  hope she is there, in the dark.