He did almost every week. Trying to explain different things, like how life wasn't very fair sometimes, but we could still be grateful for what we had... I enjoyed his talks, sitting, cozy and comfy, on his lap. His big, rough calloused hands would hug me, stroke my belly, squeeze me close. I loved my Poppa, and I could tell, even if he never told me, that he loved me too.Poppa was winding the old clock, set high on a shelf on the wall opposite his upholstered chair. He turned and smiled, just a. "What's the matter, mom?" I asked, not realizing the discomfort that I wascausing her. She said that as I would start getting older, I would beginto have friends over to the house and that dressing as a girl might not bethe best thing to do. I dressed in my boy clothes at school, but lately Iwould come home and put on my girl clothes right away. She explained tome that some people might not appreciate how nice I looked in a dress andtreat me terribly. I looked at her a bit dismayed and said. More

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