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Remembering Time, Jonathan Carey

Capstones

My parents were dressed in their Sunday best, heading to a church revival. I was 12 and still the baby of the family, so staying home alone was out of the question. My grandmother Lillian, who preferred to be called Nana, came to babysit me. She relished a little time away from the doldrums and senior citizen gossip that engulfed the high-rise building where she lived,five minutes from my house in Petersburg, Virginia. That evening, as the sounds of “The Young and the Restless” echoed through the house, I tiptoed downstairs to give Nana a playful scare.