Tribute to my grandmother

I'm missing my grandmother tonight. It's the strangest, most random things that make me think of her. At work when I hear the room deodoriser puff, it reminds me of the automatic bug repellent dispenser my grandmother had over her kitchen counter. Although she died in her mid-nineties of 'natural causes', the sound still makes me wonder about cancer rates from ingesting bug spray with food. When I hear someone give a command to a dog, I immediately picture her keeping my dad and uncles, her horses and dogs, and us grandkids in line with a sharp, Victorian-era schoolmarm reprimand. Realising I'd spent most of today staring at a computer then a television screen made me miss the feel of the thick stationary I would have used to write to her. Then that makes me think of her satiny soft hands holding my letters as she reads them. It's made my winter night cosier to spend time with her in memory.