"You fulfilled your promise"

On making a book for my grandma

The walls in Grandma T’s living room are covered with pictures of all of us. Mish-mashed together, somehow finding a way for everyone to fit.

When I visit, it’s like attending an art museum. I can’t help but stare at what’s in the frames. Memories from years past. Awkwardly staged graduation portraits. Color-coordinated family reunion photos. And some of the latest additions are from me and Elizabeth’s wedding.

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Originally, Elizabeth and I were scheduled to get married in 2020. But due to the COVID-19 pandemic, we postponed our wedding to the following year. All along, we hoped that my grandparents would be able to make it.

They’re at ages where it’s a blessing we’ve had them with us for as long as we have. And they’re still making the most of their time. Grandma just told me she went out twice this week—once for her and Grandpa to play Kalooki with their friends, and another time to walk around the mall with her best friend, Aunt Connie.

My brother walked my grandparents down the aisle. It felt right having them there. They’ve always been there. Especially Grandma T. She has cared for multiple generations—her kids, her grandkids, and now Grandpa.

Even during our most recent visit, Grandma’s biggest concern was that she didn’t have dinner prepared before we arrived. So, Elizabeth and I joined her in the kitchen and helped her make dinner, although I’m sure we slowed her down. She just wanted to make sure we were good.

Evan walking my grandparents down the aisle | Credit: Photo 243

Last Christmas Eve, Grandma texted me, “Whenever I read poetry or some quotations from a book, I readily think of you.” She continued, “I hope I will be alive when you publish your first book.”

Grandma reads my newsletter in her email inbox, but she wanted to hold my words in her hands. I promised she would.

I’ve never had these grand dreams of my own novel or to pen a memoir of my life stories, but there was nothing I wanted to do more than surprise my grandma with a book of my essays.

Grandma has always done so much for us, and I couldn’t miss an opportunity to do something for her. Over the past year, I’ve used time during my writing group sessions to make print versions of my online essays—editing out any links and even cutting down on the cussing for Grandma’s sake.

I finished with 22 essays, nearly 37,000 words, and over 280 pages. While I didn’t make a cover for the book, I decided to title it HOME.

In the acknowledgement, I wrote to my grandma:

“I feel at home in the stories you tell us.

I feel at home in your macaroni and cheese—and of course, the Jello that saved me from nightly math lessons.

I feel at home in you remembering Elizabeth doesn’t eat seafood, even though she probably only told you once in passing.

Home is how you speak, dress, and care; it’s how you’ve stood by Grandpa’s side, especially as it’s become harder for him to move.”

I made a book for my grandma before I made one for y’all because, before y’all, there was my grandma. And just like Chance said, “Your grandma ain’t my grandma.”

My grandma’s wishes come true.

The day I shipped off the book, Cole texted me, “You fulfilled your promise homie.”

I’m proud because I did what I wanted to do, which is stay true to what she wanted me to do. And I felt like I made it when Grandma messaged me, “My heart is full and overflowing with joy to hold a hard copy of a book with your essays dedicated to me.”

I still hold to the fact that I don’t know where writing is going to take me, but I’m glad it brought me here. I’m thankful knowing something I made could mean so much to my people, that it could bring my grandma to tears.

Whether or not I ever write another book, I’m glad this one belongs to us.

To Grandma, with gratitude for your love and attention all my life.