Sleeping, praying, chatting, drinking tea and laughing: my magical confinement with my 107-year-old grandmother ‘



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As I sit on a home-colored patchwork sofa, I hold a tall white mug decorated with pink flowers, the prettiest mug anyone could own – fit for a queen and certainly a mug that could only belong to the house in the that I feel while writing. this.

It’s like being in a house in the Ireland of yesteryear. I’m sitting next to a cozy and hot Stanley kitchen with buckets of grass on either side. The woman who rests her eyes on the couch in front of me is a century and seven years old and is glowing brightly.

The clock ticks loudly in the background (along with three other clocks in this room) as my grandmother, Nancy Stewart, winks in the afternoon, as she calls them . She is not really asleep.

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