If you met my grandma, you wouldn't think she was a romantic person. I never thought of her as a romantic person, but now that I think about it, she had a love for romance. She read Harlequin Romance stories like there wasn't going to be a tomorrow.
When my uncle moved out and got married, I think she made his room into a Harlequin Romance and yarn room. Well and extra storage for her clothes. She had drawers of a large dresser and a book shelf full of Harlequin Romance. She never read any other type of book.
I got my love for reading from her, but I never could get into romance books. I want the drama and excitement. She used to get a box full of six or more books a month in the mail. She read them all before the month was out.
I remember when she was passing she had a few books still in the box behind her chair and one that was partially read. When she was passing, I read some of the book she had not completed to her. I knew even though she couldn't talk to me she could hear me. How do I know that? When I got called into the kitchen by my mom, I stopped reading. When I looked over at her, she was moving her shoulders in an angry way. I knew in my heart, she was upset that her reading got interrupted. I have to chuckle to myself when I see that in my mind and think about it.
I like to think that she is on the other side sitting in a comfortable recliner with her game shows and westerns on the television and a Harlequin Romance in her hands.
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