I recall one particular evening, after I'd already been put to bed. Outside my bedroom, a central foyer that doubles as a living room is filled with my grandmother's friends. They're shuffling crisp playing cards on wooden card tables and playing poker or bridge or gin. The rich odor of cigar smoke seeps into my bedroom.
I hear my grandmother's laughter as she saunters her version of the victory dance, her rubber beach thongs slapping time on the heels of her feet. She comes into my room and splashes me with cologne to cool the painful sting of a fresh sunburn. I fall asleep knowing I will awaken to another glorious day.