100 years! I have yet to determine if living so long should be considered a blessing. I often wonder if living past the point of mental awareness in a state of constant confusion would border on the line of a living curse. Life can be cruel, but perhaps living in a state of oblivion is what has caused her to bear the circumstance with such ease. I always told her that she would never be put in a home and that I would take care of her when she got old. The dreams and aspirations of a 7 year old girl that had no idea of the distances that life would take her. Now here I sit, 27 years later, in the half empty parking lot of the Mt.Pleasant Assisted Living Retirement home. Waiting to visit the woman who I hold so dear to my heart for what I have good reason to believe may be the last time. In all the years of my life Granny had never been a "young  woman in age. Being born May 29, 1914, made her already 57 years old at the time of my birth. But she had the git up and go, of any southern woman of the age of 40, if not even possibly 35. Her white and silver hair, was always done with the most care, curled and feathered up, making that classic "Big Texas  style bouffant atop her thin wrinkled face. Not a day would go by that she would be seen without her Ruby Rouge Avon blush adorn her checks. She had a peach colored mole that was the good size of a large pea, it rested inside her left nostril. She referred to it as here beauty mark, "The bigger the mole, the more beautiful the soul, Kellie-Ann.  she would chime. She wasn't a small woman by any means, I was always in amazement at the grand size of her breasts and how they rested on the top of her belly. Her short torso gave her a very petite stature, which worked to lessen the appearance of the girth of her abdomen and favored her figure. The skin on her arms was thin and covered in brown and eggplant purple colored age spots, reminders of the years she worked out in the cotton fields as a younger girl. She was what I always believed to be the essence of the south, by beauty, charm, and by nature. She was a kind woman, with only love and patience for me; I don't believe I have ever been loved by someone so much as by her. Not even by my own parents. She helped my daddy raise me from the age of 2 to the age of 7, him being a single father he needed all the help he could get. Patience was a definite requirement with me, as I was always getin into trouble, for as long as can remember back. It had been a threatening morning, the warning sirens had gone off and we had spent what I had thought to be the better part of the early hours in Grannies cellar. In that old rickety house scurrying down to the cellar had become a routine with nearly every passing storm. There was not much air circulation 7 feet underground, so the smell was stale, and at times like this when it rained so heavily the humidity would all but take your breath away. Shelves had been built against one wall to store a small amount of water and a bit of food, "just in case.  A mattress was laid on the cement floor draped in eloquently designed quilts, each handmade by Granny herself. She always sat in her wooden rocking chair next to an old antique sofa table that was now used to store her yarn and crochet needles. She would sit patiently just rocking and crocheting, humming an old tune that her mamma used to sing to her. I was allowed to pass the time by either coloring or watching her crochet. She could sit for hours, making the tiniest of stiches on her intricately detailed doilies. "Granny, why do you do that so much?  I asked. My boredom was beginning to take over and the countless, pointless questions that can be made by a 6 year old were to commence. "Kellie-Ann, a lady should always keep herself busy. Besides, they make pritty place mats and gifts for friends. Maybe I'll make one for you some day, when you're old enough to appreciate it.  she replied in her twangiest east Texas drawl. "Huuuhhh,  I sighed. "Are we ever gonna git out of her? I wanna go outside and play!  "Would you like to learn to crotchet?  she asked, unbeknown to me was her plot to keep me quiet and entertained for the deration of our stay in the hole. "Here, I have a bigger needle and some blue yarn you can use. I'd like you to make be a pot holder.  "A pot holder, I don't know how to make a pot holder!  I did not want to make a pot holder, crocheting was for old people. "Now looki here.  She began, handing me the needle and yarn, "Ya take it and tie yer knot around the needle like this here. Ya see?  She wrapped and tied the yarn in one quick motion, it was like a magic trick, and I was astounded. "Now, you watchin child?  She knew how easily distracted I could be, even by just the imaginary dust floating in the air. But her sorcery with that needle and yarn had my full attention. "Now ya take yer thread and make a loop, like this. Then put the needle throug