by Gwin Jean
Somber stories hide in the crevices of the lineage lines on her dark hands. Salt filled tears shoved in the bags beneath her brown eyes – I can almost taste the tears. Her swollen feet press against the laminate flooring in the house. She grabs my face with her hands, passing me each story that dances between the lines on the inside of her palm. I am not ready to keep all of her stories, but I do not tell her this.
My grandmother is short in stature, yet powerful and she expects me to be the same. I am not powerful – I am, however, short. She pats me up and down as I close my eyes. “You seem….thinner, dear.” She says, hands still focusing on my mid area. “I’m not, grandmother,” I say, briefly smiling. “These stories that I’m giving you will make you strong. They will give you strength. They will give you everything you think you are lacking, dear” she whispers, as if it’s a secret that only we can know.
I smile again, looking into her eyes as she reassures me that I will have strength. “What are you lacking, dear?” she asks. I cackle and look at the floor then look back at my grandmother who hasn’t taken her eyes off me. “What… are you lacking, dear?” she asks again. A lump develops in my throat, as I think of the obvious things that I am lacking. At 27 years old, I should be married. I should have a family and I don’t. I wonder if that has anything to do with my strength. Am I not strong enough for a man? Am I too strong for men? Do I scare them away?
My grandmother is waiting for my answer as I am thinking of an appropriate one to give her and I guess it all boils down to strength. Self-strength, not in physique, but in mindset. “Strength,” I respond, biting my lip. She promises me that these stories will help me, and my future children, and my children’s children. She promises that as soon as she passes them on to me, I will have them within me forever. I am not ready to keep all of her stories, but I do not tell her this. “These stories, Winter, will give you everything that you have been missing. Protect my stories with your hands as I’ve once done.”