Betsey's Short Story

Decent Essays
Her shoulders sagged as if carrying too much weight. Her solemn, deeply creased, face made it obvious that she had seen better days, though these days were buried deeply in the past. My eyes moved to woman’s face. Every deep wrinkle told a different story. Betsey explained she could no longer see very clearly, now relying solely on tactile memories. Shortly after, she asked politely if she could touch my hair. Her rough, callused hands glided gently against my cheeks, as she caressed my hair. The look in her eyes spoke more than words could in that moment. She broke eye contact quickly looking to the embroidered white tablecloth. The last time she had held her granddaughter was a year ago. She told me of how her family no longer visited and
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