By Michelle Parker
The red house on Belmont always seemed to be filled with all types of people, some looking to pay respect, some just stopping by, others searching for a hot meal, but most seeking a place to sleep. This house belonged to my grandma, Irene Hannah, and anyone that was a child of God was invited to the red house on Belmont.
As my grandma grew older a disease called dementia began to creep up on her and as it got worse, everyone in the house began to panic. In a space filled to its maximum capacity, emotions spread easily; when one laughed, we all laughed, but when one felt pain, that pain spread like wildfire and it didn’t help keep my grandma calm. So the worse my grandma got, the more everyone began to cope—for her sake.
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Margery Hannah 
Ivory Elizabeth