Hummingbird
6 min readApr 3, 2021
The summer before Nana’s 97th birthday, she lived in a home I dubbed The House of Death. My grandma had moved into this final home after she slipped on another area rug and fell. Those innocuous flopsy things she liked to decorate with were quite dangerous. She had a series of falls which led her to the last home.
It all began when Nana snagged her foot under the four-by-five faux Turkish rug by her bedside. That spill landed her in the…
