Grandma Jones

They don’t make them like her anymore.

The elderly lady makes her way through the neighborhood on her daily walk.  With her cane in one hand, a basket full of baked goods in the other, she is a fixture on Maple Street.

Helen Jones’s daughter has a scrapbook full of photos and newspaper articles about her mother.  Everyone in Covington knows Grandma Jones.  The little old lady who bakes tasty treats.  And delivers them every day, rain or shine, in person.  She always has extras for new friends.

Everyone marvels at how many people Granny knows.  She writes each person’s name on their individually wrapped brownie, donut, or cinnamon bun.  The extras are denoted with symbols.  Triangles, circles, or squares.  When asked what the symbols mean, she wags her finger and says “I cannot divulge the secret Granny Code”.

The young people who live on Maple Street don’t know what to make of her.  She insists they post selfies of themselves eating their baked goods each day on Facebook.  Most comply.  Grandma Jones has 3000 Facebook friends. 

Every few years, the Covington Free Press publishes another article about her.  The reporter will gush over the goodies.  There will be a photograph of Granny pulling cookies or muffins out of the oven.  The fancy digital camera the young man brought last time captured the steam escaping from the oven as she opened the door.

Granny never takes the reporters or photographers down to the basement.

The grow lights are pretty bright and you don’t want to disturb the plants during the night cycle.  That is particularly damaging while flowering.

She puts on her wraparound sunglasses, the kind you wear after cataract surgery, and goes down the stairs.  At home, when there are no visitors, she doesn’t use the cane.  It’s a prop, part of her granny act.  But the glasses are authentic, she really did have cataract surgery.

Tending the plants is her son, Marty.  It is more work than Granny can do now, although she did it herself into her eighties. 

Marty often wonders how he ended up growing marijuana in his mother’s basement.  He also wonders how he ended up being the Chief of Police in Covington.  Of course, he knows the answer to both questions.  Grandma Jones is his mother.  He never had a chance.

Half of the basement is a grow room.  The other half is a pharmacy.  Jeff, Helen’s grandson, took over Jones Pharmacy when her brother retired.  During the day, Jeff fills the prescriptions that the local doctors write.  After the store closes for the day, he does his Granny work.

Mr. Adelson is on chemo and needs pot brownies for the nausea.  Brianna is 14, her parents are not sober enough to know she is having sex with multiple boys.  She gets her daily birth control.  Helen had Marty when she was 16.  She and Marty survived but few of the spoiled teenagers on Maple Street have the strength and courage she had.

Helen chuckles when she prepares Tiffany’s donut.  It took a while to figure out Tiffany was a lesbian and did not need BC.  Old grannies sometimes have to learn new tricks.  But Tiff can benefit from acne medication.  Helen rubs her hand across the scars on her face and remembers the taunts.

The little old lady makes her rounds each morning.  The walks keep her young and give her something to look forward to.  That, and all of her healthy, happy friends on Maple Street.