I was looking through some old files and found a paper I wrote back in college consisting of a series of distinct memories in my life. I thought I would share one.
"Megan?" My fragile Grandma called. "Can you do me a favor? I need you to feed your mother this melon. Just give her one at a time," her wrinkled hands shaking, pointed towards the bowl of melon placed on the rust colored tile countertops. I quickly grabbed the stained plastic bowl, a fork and headed down the dark narrow alleyway leading to my parent's room. Mom lay there quietly and smiled when I walked in. I pranced around the foot of the bed and sternly sat down nudging my bum back and forth back and forth in order to be far enough along the bed that my simple feet could dangle in content. I stabbed my first piece of ripened cantaloupe and gracefully placed it into her mouth. While I waited for her to chew I joined in the festivities of deliciousness and speared myself a piece of melon. I bit down and the sweet juices emerged to every crack and fold of my mouth. I grabbed another piece and fed it to my Mom then quickly replenished my own mouth.