there’s a rocking chair next to the bed. a knitted blanket sits folded in the corner. i jump up to skip a song when mahalia hints “in the upper room”. green ipod, small portable speaker. the chandeliers lights begin to dim. I’m sitting at grandma’s kitchen table. everything is yellow except the wood-paneled walls. she’s making me breakfast. it’s saturday morning and on saturdays she makes me pancakes, grits, bacon, sausage, and toast. she grabs the old container to the left of the stove. after scooping out several yellowed spoonfuls of re-usable bacon-speckled lard in the cast-iron skillet she asks me to feed the dogs. grabbing a bowl i walk outside and dip it into the massive dog food bag. walking inside i take a scoop of that same re-useable lard, add warm water from the sink, mix it with the food then wait for it to get soggy before putting it down on the kitchen floor. she then asks me to go outside and take the clothes off the line. there’s an incessant beeping so i look at the machine and decide to call the nurse. it’s evening and outside of grandma’s soft breathing and the lights overhead, all is still.