Short Story

This is my very short story #1 for Creative Writing.


Sitting on Grandma’s couch, flipping through her old photo album was probably one of the hardest things Becka had ever done. The pictures reminded her of the terrible feeling of loss. There would be no more tea parties with all the granddaughters, no more trips to the ice cream parlor for milkshakes. There would never be another chance to make sugar cookies in Grandma’s bright kitchen with one of her too-big aprons around Becka’s waist. A tear dropped onto the plastic photo protector.
“Don’t be sad, Becka,” Uncle George sat next to Becka and put his arm around her. “Things will be alright.”
Becka’s shoulders shook and her fingers wiped at her eyes.
“Look,” Uncle George pointed at a picture of Grandma in a bright blue dress. She was holding Becka’s hand, and Becka was holding a pinwheel. “Remember this? We all went to the fair and Grandma helped you win that pinwheel.”
Becka’s tears slowed at the memory. It had been a hot day but there had been a constant light breeze, perfect weather for a pinwheel. Grandma had helped Becka aim the ball just right so it would easily fall into the cup. Then later, they had gone on the ferris wheel together. The pinwheel spun like crazy way up there. Becka’s lips lifted just a bit.
“And this one,” continued Uncle George. “Remember how Grandma bought those sunflower seeds just for you two to plant?”
Becka brushed her fingers against the smooth photo. She and Grandma were covered in dirt, but behind them their sunflowers were in full bloom. They had weeded every week and watered twice a day. It had been tiring, but spending time with Grandma had been worth it.
Uncle George flipped a few pages and laughed. Becka looked down at the photo and couldn’t keep herself from giggling. Grandma was wearing her clown costume; she wore it every Halloween when she took the grandkids trick-or-treating. There was a bright blue wig and the bulbous red nosed squeaked when you squeezed it. Becka had loved to hear Grandma squeak that nose.
“Becka, I think I know where that nose is. Would you like to help me find it?” Uncle George took Becka by the hand and led her up to the attic. It was full of old books and dusty boxes. They found the nose pretty quickly. Uncle George put it on Becka’s nose and then reached back into the box and plopped the wig on her head. “There. Now you look just like Grandma.”
Becka looked in the mirror and laughed. She squeaked the nose and smiled. It was just like when Grandma did it.
“How about you keep that nose, Becka? And I don’t think anyone would mind if that photo album was yours too.”
Becka smiled at herself in the mirror. She knew what she was going to be next Halloween. Just like Grandma.