Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page. Grandma Carrie By Robin Mills I remember the scent of my grandma Carrie, slightly sour mixed with ivory soap. I remember the click of her heels, the kidney shaped metal cleat meant to prolong the life of shoe soles tapping on the cold hard tile floor of their Palm Springs apartment. I remember seeing the white hoop cheese she used to stuff her home-made blintzes, nestled between her front teeth when she leaned in to whisper something in my ear, and her thick toenails covered in shiny red polish. Grandma Carrie came across the ocean as a child with her mother, from Kiev, fleeing pogroms and leaving behind some of her ten siblings who would never follow, only to be lost to concentration camps. They settled, living in a New York walk-up, likely shared with more…