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Three sisters, standing one behind the other at an angle to the camera, from youngest in the front to oldest in the back.  Their old fashioned glasses and stiff hairdos make them look older than they are, which is, perhaps, in their early thirties.  The youngest, with a rounder, fuller face, is smiling.  The older two are not.  The oldest, however, has a twinkle in her eyes, which, even in a black and white photo, are clearly blue.  The middle sister's gaze is begrudging, forceful, maybe even angry, though I know the look is hiding an irrational fear of having her picture taken, a fear that will build into a phobia to add to an increasing pile of phobias and obsessions.  It is the oldest sister who is my grandmother.