I was 17. I was barely at home except to sleep. My step grandmother, my stepfathers mother was once again living with us. Long ago widowed by a faithless husband, who visited farmers wives while their husbands worked the fields to feed their families and support his church. A preacher without shame. or morals, She was born in west Virginia and walked as straight backed as the eye sees. She was a retired R.N. She never spoke to me of her beliefs. Not one word. She was often sitting in the hottest part of a San Diego summer. She would sit before a large window leaning into the light, her sight growing dim struggling to see. I had a jacket made of good leather but of poor design. A Zip up with a cloth bottom fringe. She and I had planted several gardens together. She energetic and spry as always. The woman could chop a 15 ft row with a hoe in 5 minutes in HARD ground. Once in her garden she was a machine. She always has a list. It wasn't her. a rather pleasant woman; it was her lists that drove me crazy! I was bored lazy and sullen, every thing asked of me was a imposition. I had had Zero faith in my Grandmother's gardens. Nothing seem to ever happen...Then when in their time they brought fourth abundance.. For some reason I just didn't process the labor she dragged my belly aching ass though back then with the abundance now. She was constantly telling me how hard my mother and father worked. Worse she would ask me to help!! She was simply incapable of of conceiving of a life not lived for others. In fairness to that boy. He had not one idea of sewing. it had been around whenever "She" was, But he had never given much of anything beyond his nose any thought. One summer day after her resent return to live with us I was passing though the living room and her sewing. Aren't you hot? was All I said. She didn't look up. "Emmm." Then I remembered my jacket. Gladis had sewn for all of her children's clothes. A poor ministers wife who taught school in those years. A woman with an education, a nursing degree was the best that small community could do for their kids. So she taught and doctored where she was needed and could find her way though to a remedy. Due to her husbands transgressions they moved to Texas. Where she returned to Nursing. She was still doing light part time Nursing n her late 70's. I asked her if she could rip the zipper out and sew it up as a pull over? She didn't look up, just reached out her hand like she was on a factory floor. She dragged my jacket into the the light. Turning it over then inside out examining what I didn't bother to concern myself with. "It will take me a while.." So cool take your time Grandma. And I was off to seek out and be with my friends. Over the next week I saw and spoke to her several times, sitting in the hot light sewing on my jacket. As it was progressing, almost done, she wanted me to stand to measurements. It was while she held up my Jacket Thae I finally saw the woman I had spent a lot of my youth hiding from \ She was now a good foot shorten than me. Hair thinning and snow white peppered with gray. Her face shriveled.But there was something else in her face. Many years later I would hear in a song the perfect description of what I saw that day for the first time. "The Ghosts of electricity howled in the bones of her face. Bob Dylan. Then after years of getting use to seeing them, use to her using them as if they belonged to someone else, Years of benefiting from their labors; I saw her totally crippled arthritic hands, I beheld them. I understood years gone by. I saw her washing dishes washing clothes hoeing like a mad woman. I asked her to stop. She had to position her hands for each stitch which seem to take every once of her strength to drive the needle though the leather. I asked her to stop, At first she laughed me off but when she saw that at last, long last I was concerned for her. She stopped. "I have nothing better to do" she said. "Nothing better than to torture yourself over my stupid jacket" She looked at me. "Everything has a price. But the people in our lives are beyond price, They may disappoint you But in the end we are left with two things the people we have loved and the love they gave us. That's what we take to the grave, nothing else." I offered to help drive the needle but there were only around a dozen stitches left and she wanted them done right.