22Grandma almost never stopped moving. She got up when it was still dark outside, prayed until the sun rose, then worked in her garden for a couple of hours before cooking bacon and eggs and biscuits and gravy. Then she cleaned up, never letting anyone help and soon began to cook the next big meal.
After breakfast, I showed Skye Grandma’s backyard.
“Oh my God, real live chickens!” Skye said, as excited as a child at a petting zoo.
“Go on ahead,” said Grandma Z. “Catch your dinner.”
Skye and I chased chickens for ten minutes, while Grandma Z chuckled. Finally, she just reached down, grabbed a chicken by its neck and swirled it around until its body fell off.
That headless chicken flopped and flew and jumped, splattering blood all over the grass.
“Jesus Christ,” said Skye. I cringed, a
