The sun poured into the screened-in porch warming the grass rug and grey-painted concrete floor. Nancy, as usual, was following close to her grandma. She really felt safe and warm when they were together. Often she would sit on Gammy's lap in the rocker stroking her soft, wrinkled throat, marveling that Gammy could let her do this. Nancy, herself, was so ticklish, just a touch anywhere would send her into gales of giggles, but her neck and bottom of her feet were absolutely untouchable.

The porch was ringed with red, white, and pink flowers, large, medium and small, in clay pots, tin cans and, even, paper cups. Nancy smoothed her newly-ironed dress and pushed her curly brown hair back off her face. She always had trouble staying neat and clean. It wasn't any fun to always have to be careful with your clothes. The most fun she had was when she could dig and play in the backyard and really get dirty. "Gammy, it's such a pretty day, can't we put the flowers outdoors?"

"Not yet, Jack Frost could still come. We have to wait just a little longer." Gammy's snow-white head bent over so she could look into Nancy's blue eyes, but she stood straight, favoring, somewhat, her always stiff back. To Nancy she seemed very tall but, in reality, she was only a few inches over five feet. Her voice was firm but Nancy knew she wasn't mad because her deep brown eyes sparkled with humor that was never very far away.

"These flowers are really thirsty", Gammy said, "go in the kitchen and get them a drink of water." Nancy skipped into the kitchen. She didn't see the small metal watering can Daddy had given her. It was hiding behind the Rice Krispies box she had left on the counter after eating her breakfast. She took a glass of water from the sink, filled it with water and, carefully, started back to the porch, watching the glass to be sure it didn't spill any. Her toe met the door jamb and she went flying. Broken glass was everywhere.

When Gammy arrived blood was running down Nancy's little white arm from the slice cut in the heel of her pudgy hand. Gammy quickly grabbed Nancy's wrist, holding it firmly to try to stop the bleeding, rushed to the phone and called Dr. Beckwith. After she was sure he was on his way she ran outside for help still holding Nancy's wrist. "Don't be afraid, Nancy, everything will be all right," Gammy said, but Nancy saw that she was really worried.

Two teenaged girls stood across the street and Gammy called to them. One of them brought her handkerchief and tied it around Nancy's trembling wrist, trying the staunch the flow of blood. Nancy tried not to be afraid and to stop crying but she could feel the tears streaming down her face. Even so, she did everything she was told, staying still and trusting her elders.

Dr. Beckwith arrived carrying his black leather bag and wearing a black suit with tie and vest. His white beard hung long against the black suit but his eyes were kind and his voice was gentle. "Now, let's see what the trouble is." He had been Gammy's doctor for many years and Nancy knew him well. She sat quietly, crying softly as he examined her. There was a second deep slash on her forearm. He gently proceeded to stop the bleeding and close the cuts. Taking some matches from his bag, he lit them and cauterized the wounds. With her big, blue, tear-filled eyes looking up at Gammy, Nancy said, "He's being duss as careful as he can be."

Years later Gammy would write a poem recalling this day and concluding:

"Now she is a woman grown,
She has a lovely daughter of her own,
Though she had many problems to meet
She is courageous and very sweet.
In these many years
I have seen few tears
When things go wrong
And her chin is held firm and strong,
She is the same as when she said to me,
"He's being duss as careful as he can be."

Holly Klass

Note: This is a thinly veiled biographical sketch. I am the Nancy in the story and my grandmother, Anna Hunt, did write a poem about the same incident. It is interesting how the facts are different in her recollection and mine.