The Rope. The Original Essay. Part 2.
On a drive to church, sitting between the “bickersons”, Grandma told me she was going to have me ring the bell. Tentative, I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but I didn’t kick up a fuss.
One step at a time, with grandma behind me to catch my fall, I made it up the back staircase, with squeaky wood steps and a matted red carpet worn since 1921. Climb…
