A story of loss. A story of rememberance.
| I was sad the day Grandma died.|
She loved me and I loved her.
I remembered our special tea parties.
I remembered our garage sale, everything a nickel a piece.
I remembered watching the birds.
Mama said to pick something out of Grandma’s to remember her by.
Aunt Mary claimed the teapot.
Uncle Martin grabbed the pictures.
I didn’t need table cloths or towels.
I couldn’t read Grandma’s books yet.
There were boxes and boxes of Grandma’s things everywhere.
Mama showed me knick-knacks through her tears.
I kept searching.
Nothing looked the same as it did when Grandma was here.
I walked to her closet and touched her clothes. They smelled good. They smelled like Grandma and for a moment I thought Grandma was with me.
I found a folded handkerchief in one of her pockets. It smelled of lavender. I breathed in Grandma’s scent through my nose. Tears filled my eyes.
This was the next best thing to Grandma. I slipped the handkerchief in my pocket and smiled.
I had Grandma in my pocket.
For many years I would carry this handkerchief with me. When I felt sad I would pull it out and smell the lavender. It helped me not forget my grandma. She would always be with me.
But I still miss her.
And I still have that handkerchief.