Beach Day

I wonder if I chose only one moment to go back to, which one it would be? It might be the day Nana took me to the beach.

My grandmother, Nana, Santa Monica beach, 1940s

The summer before her ninety-seventh birthday, my grandmother, Nana, passed away in her sleep. She was living in an elderly care home, although I hesitate to use the word care. It wasn’t where she belonged, that’s for sure.