1/12/2013

I walk behind an old lady who is driving a power chair. Her grandbaby is on her lap, hitching a ride. It's 70 degrees outside, but they have on toboggans (because that's how Grandmama dresses during "pneumonia weather.") His is red. Hers is white. A big head beside a small head, their tassels sway in the wind. I worry: What if, he jumps out of her arms? What if the chair's battery runs down on the street? But they seem relaxed in the sunshine. They are making it. I notice the pouch on the back of her chair holds: a diaper, a bottle, and a blue fuzzy blankey.