By Jan Allen
I was sprawled on the couch playing Candy Crush, my triple-pierced ear rested against my grandmother’s shoulder.
Gran guided the rounded handle of her cane under my brother’s Magic 8 Ball on the carpet. With a deft flip, she caught it mid-air.
Robbie, who’d been mesmerized by his transformer, switched loyalties. “That’s mine!”
“I want to ask it a question,” Gran said.
He lunged. “It’s my Magic 8 Ball!”
She ducked. “It’s my question.”
That’s when she asked: “When my grandchildren remember me, will they smile?”
Gran shook the sphere, pretended to read aloud: “That is my only wish.”
We do.
This is really lovely!
Beautiful story. Loved it.
Wonderful thing about us old people is we’re so much at ease having death as our next door neighbor. Oh, how different when I was young and thought that I was never going to die. What a marvel to know that all your cares, troubles and worries past will soon be left behind and be forever at peace, having in the meantime having had the privilege to love our dear friends, neighbors and family…and, indeed, the world in general. And gradually having made peace with all in the meantime.
Beautiful 🙂
Aw, I loved this sweet little story. It made me a little misty-eyed.
Very nice.