Chapter Three - The Iron Bed

I guess I have skipped ahead a few years, but I have a memory to convey that is relevant to my current situation.  My grandmother, Jessie,  became ill in her eighties.  I remember my family telling me that she would be moved to a nursing home.  Both of my parents worked, and no one was able to take care of her.  I also remember my mother telling me that Jessie said, "If you leave me here, I will die."  Two days later, I received a call while in college that my grandmother had passed.  Today, I have decided that my mother must be in long term care, and I will be selling her home.

I have spoken with family members about things and furniture they might like to have.  My daughter, Sarah, told me once again, that she would like to have the iron bed that I currently have in my own home.  She said, "After all why will you need four different beds?"  This iron bed is the one I currently sleep in.  I love this bed, and for the life of me, I could not really answer her.  It belonged to my grandmother, Jessie, and it was always kept in her third floor attic.  I remember one summer, when it was quite warm, my sister Marcia and I, and Jessie all slept in that iron bed in the attic.  Since I was the smallest at the time, I had to sleep along the bottom, while the other two had either side.  It was crowded, but we thought it was an adventure.  Her attic had stars painted on the ceiling, and it was a magical moment I will always remember.  My sister, too, remembers that night.  I guess I answered my own question. That old iron bed was The Summers on 49th Street.