OUR FOOTSTEPS ECHO as we climb the stairs. My grandma holds my hand.
Shhhhh – be quiet! My grandpa is sleeping.
The third-floor flat, the heavy wooden door, and inside the smell of warm pipe tobacco and homemade cakes.
Take your coat off – hang it on the coat rack. Take your shoes off – put them in the shoe rack. Put on your slippers. Mine are red and my grandma’s are blue. My grandpa’s are brown, but they are in his room where he is sleeping.
Down the hall, past my grandma’s bedroom and past my grandpa’s bedroom, past the green-tiled bathroom and into the small, light kitchen. My grandma puts the cloth shopping bag on the table. It has flowers on it and zips up into a small leather wallet when it’s not being used. It is a good bag and it holds a lot. It comes from Czechoslovakia.
I unpack the shopping. Three Kaiser rolls.... Read more
To access the full text version of this article, login if you are a subscriber.
Subscribe to Griffith REVIEW or purchase the edition in our Online Store.