I give my grandma a hug and kiss before I leave the house. “Bye, Granny. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Don’t forget this address and this phone number, now.”

“I won’t, Granny. I promise.”

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I was so mad at her.

Well, maybe not mad. But I was clearly aggravated.

I was graduating from high school on my 18th birthday. A high school I’d unceremoniously learned I wouldn’t be returning to 2 years ago to the day. This day was clearly a big deal to me. I wasn’t quite sure where my life was headed during the summer of 2008. Fast forward a few short years later, I’d managed to graduate from that same high school with honors, while finessing a full academic scholarship from the best HBCU in the country.

And here was my grandma, sitting in the kitchen, IN HER PAJAMAS.

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