Grandma's Apples  I'm at grandma Redding's house, in the kitchen with both grandma and grandpa. Grandpa is slicing apples into a pie. They're brown and soggy, but crispy when you bite into them. I'm eating an apple. Grandpa says something about a chicken defecating on its chicks in some class he took. I identify with him, saying I took a class nearly the same, but nothing happened with chickens. I walk past the entrance of grandma and grandpa's room. The door is open and the bed is shaggily made: grandpa is getting older and doesn't bother to tuck in the edges. My mom walks out of the entrance hall into their room. She is wearing only a sweater. It goes down over her hips. It looks like she is wearing only that. She asks grandma and grandpa to borrow a pair of pants, because she's cold. I say she can borrow on of mine, that I'll have one that will fit. My mom is running in a race later that night.