It sometimes seems all these events constituted one long, perfect day. But I know they are choice fragments, woven together in my mind as the expression of some supreme, innocent happiness.
My grandmother was one of the happiest people I have ever known, and she was dearly loved by everyone she touched. I always felt she and I shared our own private affection. Sitting in her lap in the over-stuffed cushions of our old, wooden glider, I saw the happiness in her eyes as a reflection of me.