She nodded.
“Your grandfather wanted me to have a warning.”
She smiled.
“I want you to have a lesson.”
We walked through security together.
Behind us, the airport doors opened and closed.
People hurried toward gates.
Families hugged.
Children dragged suitcases.
Announcements echoed overhead.
And for the first time, I realized what that terrible day had actually given Grandma.
It hadn’t taken away her family.
It had shown her which parts of her family were real.
When we reached the gate, she sat beside the window.
She looked peaceful.
For illustrative purposes only
I asked where she wanted to go first.
She thought for a moment.
“Paris.”
I smiled.
“Are you sure?”
She touched her pearl earrings.
“Your grandfather always wanted to take me.”
Then she looked at me.
“And this time, I’m buying my own ticket.”
I laughed.
She laughed too.
Our flight was called.
Grandma stood.
