Grandma’s legacy

She turned the clear plastic stem, opening the window blinds ever so slightly. Enough to let in a little light, but not enough for prying eyes.

The chair she sat in was a hundred years old, the wood cracked, the upholstery thin. She leaned into it, smelling Grandma’s sweet scent, and cried.

She picked up her laptop and began to type. The veil of tears blinded her, so she relied on her fingers’ memory.

Tap tap tap

Each touch echoed through the empty room.

Gone gone gone

The word echoed through her empty mind.

One hand went to her head, the other gently snapped the computer shut. Shouldn’t the tears have run out months ago?

She left the laptop on the chair and wandered into the kitchen. The quiet bubbling in the kettle was comforting, like Grandma was still home. She took two mugs from the cupboard and held them, staring until the hiss of steam brought her back to reality. She returned Grandma’s to the shelf, but lingered, touching the intricate handle.

“I can keep her legacy alive.” The whisper was hardly louder than her breath.

She gently placed Grandma’s mug on the counter beside her own and picked up the phone. Her finger traced the curved path over the numbers. Dialing like this may have been slow, but faster isn’t always better.

“Can you come right away?”

She went back to the stove and poured the boiling water into a delicate teapot. The closet of linens down the hall smelled of lavender and lilac. She selected a lace cloth, carried it to the tea table and in a moment, all was laid.


Even Grandma’s doorbell was delicate.

She turned the smooth brass handle, opening the door wide. Enough to envelop the entry in light and reveal Grandma’s home and a taste of the stories to come to the girls and their mother.


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