The Scribbles


The Scribbles

I slid open the door to Gran’s room, draping an old shirt around my tank top and switching on the iPod. With ’Psychedelic Furs’ playing and a sweet breeze coming in through the window, I was finally ready to work.

Climbing a high stool, I started peeling off the wallpaper, all the while trying not to think that there were still three more walls to go. By the time I finished the first, the room was already filled with the pink glow of dusk. Suddenly, my eyes fell on a scribble on the newly bared wall. What on earth, I thought aloud.

Peering closer, I recognized Gran’s handwriting.

Our granddaughter has your eyes, Eric. Our Iris!

There was something else written below it too, almost illegible.

Iris took her first step today.

I never realized how long I had been staring.

She is growing so fast!

Oh, Gran...

I forgot what I was about to tell you. I keep forgetting these days.

I started stripping down the wallpapers faster.

Iris has opened her own boutique. She made me this handkerchief.

The Doc came to see me today.

Yet, the last one broke me within.

I’ll be joining you…

I remember sobbing then, consumed by nostalgia and a strange sense of vacancy. There was guilt too, of intruding on something so sacred to my grandparents. With a heavy heart, I picked up the jar of paint and reburied her letters, letting them be in peace forever.