"Pop, all T.V.s are in color."
"Yeah, how old are you?!"
I laughed. Little Carrie and Frank Jr. always thought I belonged in a museum. "Ancient! Older than your mother!"
Carrie screamed playfully and ran away yelling about mummies. Frank just scoffed. "You'd have to be really old to be ancient, Pops."
"What can I say, I'm really old."
"You sure are." Jr went back to his game, a Mario something or other.
A pale hand rested on my shoulder. "You kids want some mac n' cheese?"
A small storm of children cheered and ran past my old chair and into the kitchen where Georgie had just called them to supper. Her hand left my shoulder as it followed the tiny crowd. In her place came Carrie, my Carrie. She sat down in her favorite chair, right next to mine. She held my hand as she sipped her tea. Her brown hair had turned grey from age and the stress of raising three kids on a teacher's salary, but her blue eyes had lost none of their sparkle, and her smile was as wide as ever. She had sheathed her smile today, though; she seemed quiet, thoughtful.
"What's going on in your pretty head, my Apple?"
"Oh, not too much. I was just thinking... Well, did you ever think that we'd have so many grandkids?"
I smiled. I'd been thinking about that myself. "I expected quite a few."
Carrie laughed, and my heart fluttered. "Me, too."
YOU ARE READING
My Apple's Smile
Ficción GeneralAn old Japanese myth tells that you're reborn with the face of the person you loved in your past life. As you reenter the world, looking again for love as a new person with an empty memory, you wear your old love's face in a final sign of devotion t...
