Your Grandmother lived in this blocked of flats with no elevator, and when she turned sixty your mum tried to make her move out. She stood there, biscuit tin in hand, holding a photo of your Granddad as if your mum was a demon and he was the bible.
‘This is my home!’ she said, and in the end your mother gave up. We cheered. Back then it was easy to side with the little old lady who told us stories and fed us cake.
We didn’t see the grizzly side of getting old. That bit sneaks up on you.
Carol J Forrester - Writing and Works 
That’s so true. We learn this too late, most of the time.
Unfortunately so true. I liked that picture of the biscuit tin and the photo. 🙂
I enjoyed the piece and sentiment within, but you might like to look at “blocked”?
You painted a great picture here 🙂
Thank you.
Boy does it, great story!
Thanks for the warning!
Rosey Pinkerton’s blog
That’s very true. Good story.
Loved this. Sounds like my grandmother, except for the photograph… Well done 🙂