While she spent the last couple years in Florida, I can best remember my Grandma when she was still at the house my mother grew up in. I can remember when we were getting close to the house because the neighborhood looked different from the others surrounding it. Most who read this will remember the cul-de-sac the house was located in. The house had a kitchen with a long dinner table and a memorable tile-like pattern on the floor (as a kid you notice the things at your eye level). Past the kitchen and straight up the stairs was a room on the left, the computer room. There was a little while I can remember my grandma was very into this Seinfeld-themed memory game and she spent a great deal of time up there playing it. Intrigued, I went up to ask her how to play and who the people on the screen were. She was shocked I had never seen Seinfeld before (couldn't have been much older than five). Before I knew it, I was fluent in the Seinfeld language. I learned all the classic lines and the stories that came with them. I knew everything from The Soup Nazi to George peeing in the public shower. The things a child remembers are odd and usually considered insignificant, but what I've found is those atypical memories are the ones that matter the most and bring you closer to the ones you share them with. I love you very much, Grandma. Rest easy.