SATURDAYS @ GRAND'S HOUSE

"Grandmother, I want my eggs sunny side up with the yolks wet enough to have my toast take a bath in it," I said one sunny Saturday morning. Grandmother would wake early to feed me and then send me in her room and I’d play old 78 records until it was time for lunch.
"Child, you are too particular!"
"It’s yo’ fault, "I’d say. "Cause it was you that spoiled me."
"Tee hee. I sho’ did. Child what am I gone do with you!" she’d say and be so tickled, that old lady would try to cook my eggs just that way. Sometimes they came out perfect and sometimes those yolks were as hard as rubber balls. And she’d start again. But sometimes she had no patience for my silliness and told me so.
"Child things ain’t gone always turn out the way you want them and that is the truth and you ought to know it before you get out in the world and find out the hard way," she’d say.
"Aw, Gran, why you got to say something like that. You the one got me eating my eggs like that. Is it my fault that you cook them so good."
"Tee hee!"
"Don’t go thinkin’ you know me that well. I mean what I say. You remind me of that story of that woman I heard tell a long time ago."
"What story?" I said gobbling down my rubbery eggs with a side of crispy bacon and hot buttered toast. When Grandma got ready to tell a story she let that low Baritone voice sink to a hush.
"Well once upon a time and this is a true true story there was a beautiful girl who was very poor. But because she was beautiful, she had a whole lot of men coming after her.
"How many?"
"A duke, a Lord-"
"The Lord!"
"I said ‘a’ Lord!" she said frowning this ain’t no Jesus story. Now hush up and eat and let me tell my story."
"I bet it’s gone end up tryin’ to teach me something," I said not irritated at all. I liked my grandmother’s stories even though they all seemed to circle around women doing something wrong and how they was supposed to make it right. You see, my grandmother was an authority on how women were supposed to be.