irishrose1.livejournal.comShe gently placed the box in Grandma's lap, then took a seat on the
sofa nearby while Grandma fingered the red ribbon, then pulled the
bow and freed the box from its grip. Then Grandma folded back the
card board flaps and gazed inside, and her eyes opened wide at things
remembered, then they closed, and for much, much too long, Grandma
just sat there that way.
"Grandma?" she asked, "What is it?"
"Dust."
"Dust?" she asked, "Is it magic dust?"
"It was. Once."
"What kind of magic?"
Grandma opened her eyes, and looked over at her.
"Love," she told her, "It was love. And I let it turn to dust."
"Tell me the story, Grandma, please?"
Grandma looked down at the dust, remembering, considering, then she
looked up and over, and smiled.
"This box," Grandma said, "has been tied up and hidden away for far
too long."
"I'm ready for the story now."
"So am I, I think," Grandma said, "It goes something like this:
"Long,long ago, when I was young, and the world was a very different
place, there was someone I cared for.
His name was Spike, and he..."