Her Bedroom Wall

Her little grandson asked about the “funny-looking picture” on her bedroom wall. “Who’s Willie John?” She said, “He was without a doubt the finest man I’ve ever known. He was my grandpa, so he’d be your great-great grandpa.” Wide-eyed, he said, “Wow! How come you’ve never shown me where he lives or let me meet him? Take me to him, Grandma. Please!’ She smiled and set him on her knees, held back her tears, and said, “My sweet dear child, Grandpa’s in Heaven now.” “How long’s he been up there?” he said. “For forty years. Now off to bed!” When time was right, she’d tell him how a “funny-looking” piece of art, the gravestone rubbing she had made, became a treasure she’d not trade for gold. Its presence thrilled her heart, just like her thoughts of Grandpa, who had raised her when her parents died. She reminisced—Oh, how he’d tried to please her! There were very few bad times. She knew he’d always taught her right. She then recalled the day she’d wandered till she found her way to the old graveyard that she sought and Grandpa’s grave—a shocking sight! She pulled away the vines that clung and cried with guilt as each she flung off to the side with all her might. She vowed, “This grave will no more be neglected.” Then she used her skills to make the precious piece that fills the frame high on her bedroom wall. entered in Geraldine Taylor's Creative Collective Anthology Series on July 10, 2017