I went to Granny's Sunday as usual for Sunday dinner. I was there and Granny was there and my cousin Rachel was there. It was around 5:30 and we had just polished off a bunch of squash and chicken and cabbage and iced tea. We were sitting around the dining room table, feeling fat, waiting for the other relatives to show up and have a late dinner.

Rachel started to squirm. She's 13 and skinny and tall and always has a bump or a bruise on her knee because she plays three sports in school. "Let's go play basketball," she said under her breath. Granny and I drank some more tea and talked about the mums at the farmer's market. "Let's go play basketball," she said a little louder.

"Let's go watch the end of the football game," I said.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "I did that all day yesterday."

"Okay," I said. "I'll go watch you play basketball. Okay?"

Rachel grabbed her basketball. "Okay." She looked at Granny. "Do you want to come?"

"I had been thinking about it," Granny said hesitantly. "Let me go put some shoes on."

While Granny was putting on her shoes I went outside to wait with Rachel. The air was thin and crisp like the leaves on the sidewalk. The air smelled of smoke and grilling hamburgers. Rachel was spinning her basketball on her finger. She spun it on her knuckle and then on her thumb. She was getting really good, and only 13.

The school where we shoot basketball is only a few blocks away from Granny's house. My mom went to that school, and Rachel's dad. Granny still remembered which rooms they had been in, where the principal's office was, and about the time Rachel's dad had had a dream about his 4th grade teacher and had called out her name in his sleep. She told us about these things as we crossed the schoolyard to the basketball court. I had heard some of them, but Rachel hadn't. I felt enveloped by time, past and present blended together with Granny's memories.

Rachel started shooting free throws, which she considers most important. She made most of them. Granny and I stood on the side of the court and Granny pointed out the things that were different about the school -- the wire mesh over the windows, the different locks on the doors, and the new playground equipment. I tried to see the school as it had been in 1926, when it was built. It still had that flavor about it, but it was kind of spoiled by the wire mesh.

Rachel passed me the ball and I tried a couple of shots, both of which I missed. I'm not really into basketball; I'm more of a softball person. Rachel then shot the ball and missed, and it bounced over to Granny.

Granny sort of reached out for it, then moved away. "Do you want to take a shot, Granny?" I asked.

"No, that's all right. You play."

"Shoot, Granny!" Rachel tossed Granny the ball.

Granny bobbled it and we laughed, but she did too so it was okay. Awkwardly, she heaved the ball in the air. It hit the rim and bounced off. I got it and handed it back to her. "Try again."

This time the ball spun around the edge of the rim and bounced off. "That wasn't fair!" Granny exclaimed. She was laughing. I got the ball for her again. This time she held the ball like she'd seen basketball players do. I noticed that she shot the ball with her right hand, but she was left- handed. This time the ball hit the backboard and bounced off.

"Almost!" I said. I was delighted. There had been so many times when I wanted to talk to Granny, but didn't quite know how to say things, and times when I felt like she wanted to talk to me too. Forty-odd years of age difference is a long time, but it's also a great distance. But here we were at the corner school, shooting baskets.

Granny hit the rim about ten more times, except for one time when she shot the ball straight in the air and nearly pasted herself in the head. Rachel laughed and ran for the ball and I gave encouragement -- you're shooting a little too strong, aim for the backboard -- and finally she sank a neat free throw with her right-handed shot.

The crowd of two went wild. "YEAH!" Rachel and I yelled, and whooped and clapped for a minute. Granny was grinning. I'd never seen a Granny-grin before. It reminded me of the time I was walking in the morning and came within a yard of where a hawk was standing and eating his breakfast. Being so close to such a wonderful sight had made me feel like there were no boundries and endless possibilities.

The sight of Granny having a good time -- getting to be with her as a friend instead of just a granddaughter -- made me feel the same way. Granny wasn't doing Granny- things like gardening and cooking and taking the dog for a walk. I wasn't doing granddaughter-things like admiring the mums and setting the table and watching TV. Instead, we were friends, and I was teaching my friend how to shoot baskets.

After a little while longer, and some more shots on Granny's part, it started to get dark so we headed back to Granny's house. Granny told us more legends of the school - - where one teacher had been, where Mom had learned math -- and it all slipped into my memory to the beat of Rachel dribbling her basketball on the sidewalk.

Granny was a storyteller, a memory-keeper, a grandmother, and now in my eyes she was a basketball star. I closed my eyes, trying to burn into my memory how she looked as she took the shot that sank - the way she held the ball, the hop she took in her UNC canvas shoes. It was a memory I would try to hang onto with all my strength, because the treasure that created it would not last forever.