- 12.
It was the rainy season in Georgia, the air thick with humidity. I walked along the familiar cobblestone streets, umbrella in hand. At the end of the road was the old three–story house where I’d spent my childhood. My mom always said Grandma was stubborn. Even though her daughter had married into money, she insisted on staying in that small town, clinging to her rundown house. But that stubborn old woman had given me the happiest years of my life. The rain was light. A street vendor rode by on a
tricycle, his loudspeaker looping, “Peaches,
fresh Georgia peaches!” A woman came out of
a nearby house, umbrella up, to buy some. She
spotted me and gasped. “Olivia? What are you
doing here? It’s not time for your grandma’s
memorial yet!” I forced a smile, tears pricking
my eyes. “I missed home. Just here for a few
days.” She glanced at my suitcase, her
expression softening. “Honey, you came all this
10:07
<
44
way alone? Your grandma’s house has been empty for ages. It must be damp with all this rain.” “Why don’t you stay with us? My son,
Alex, is hardly ever home. You’d keep me company.” She grabbed my suitcase and led me
to her house.
