Mara's Scrapbook

Hazel reached for the earlobe which almost wasn't there, a familiar gesture when she was thinking carefully, and Al waited. Their coffee mugs steamed, the fat clock in the hall ticked loudly, and he waited. Finally, she looked up and pulled on her glasses.

"What's a13 letter word for 'to put off'?"

For a moment, Al thought, his lips moving in silent counting. Then he answered, "Procrastinate."

Hazel nodded.

"Correct," she said. "So don't deserve the word. Get on that phone and call Sedona."

"You don't think– "

"Listen. You hoped she might make us younger; I was afraid she might be the death of us. We were both wrong. We do better for the time together, that's all."

Hazel watched Al sip his coffee.

"So do it," she urged again.

Al stood abruptly and walked toward the telephone. Hazel watched him, and she thought, so many years, so much kindness. Then, suddenly afraid, she looked down at the newspaper and the crossword puzzle.

This page includes two pictures and two pieces of writing.

One picture is of a small house with two lemon trees, heavy with fruit; the other is of a girl sitting on a step, clutching a small dog.

A faded pink thank-you note..."Rough Draft," written in adult hand on the top...is taped next to the pictures.

Dear Grandma and Grandpa, [Mara begins]

Thank you for the nise visit. I had a good time. The food was good. We did lot of fun things. I lov you. Mara"

Centered on the bottom is a school composition, written on lined notebook paper in the script of an older Mara.

I stayed with my grandparents for a week, [Mara writes] and we really did fill the time. Near the end they gave me a doll with a china face and glass eyes. I could tell I was supposed to really love her and appreciate how old she was . Probably I was supposed to allow her to get even older.

But she was too stiff, and her clothes were too fragile. On the ride home, I accidentally pushed in her eyes, first one, then, when I desperately went searching for it, the other. Mother saw the doll lying on the back seat and she told Dad. I cried, but they promised not to tell on me. When we got home, we paid to have the doll’s eyes repaired, but she's stayed on the shelf ever since.

Did Mara's grandparents pass on something else which could not break? They must have, or the visit would not have been remembered so fondly – by the two older people in the corner of that photo of the house, by the puppy gasping for breath in the girl's hug, by Mara, whenever she pulled blankets up to her chin and, in their absence, told herself a goodnight story.