a bushel and a peck.

My grandmother died Thursday morning in Greenville. She was my Mamama, my beloved. She loved me from the second she first saw me, and I never once had to wonder about that. She let me eat as much watermelon as I wanted. She took me to the library. She loved my Grandad. She narrated the "Billy Goats Gruff" story every time I wanted to act out the story at the park. She decorated her house for Christmas for me. She loved to sing. She taught me to sew. She wrote me letters. She gave me her empty spice jars so I could "cook" with them in the black dirt under her grapevines. Every morning when I was at her house, she would come in my room and open the white shades on the window and say "Good morning world, this is Ashley!" She sang to me, "I love you a bushel and a peck," and she knew I loved her that much, too.