“He will not be easily found that one. Speak his name to these and they will aid you.”
Grandma’s words felt like a memory or a dream compared to the unexpected firmness of her grip. She gave me other instructions I think—maybe something about employing them before they became brittle and maybe something about speaking to the redder ones first. I know for certain, because I can still feel the matte texture of her dry tin fingers, I no longer underestimate her power.
I packed the leaves into an empty film packet from my vest. Grandma picked up my camera bag and offered it to me with the flap folded back. I placed the packet into an unoccupied slot and buttoned the flap down and told the camera not to peek into the packet.
“Thank you, Nonni. I’ll remember you to him when we meet.”
“It’s no bother. I won’t forget like I used to when I was a kid.”
“Don’t. I don’t want your brother to think on me at all.”
She may have sat down at the bench. She may have walked into the woods. She may have vanished in a puff. I got on my way and she on hers and I never told my brother.
Word count: 215