7
The silver and emerald cat charm lay heavy in my hand, but I didn’t know if its weight came from the metal itself or the memories it carried. I couldn’t help but remember the first time I’d seen it—also during a time of loss and grief.
Grandfather and I had gone walking in town one Sunday morning. I was still dressed in black, the dress Mother had gotten me for Andy’s funeral, and even though it had a full skirt—my favorite kind to twirl in—I wasn’t feeling up for a good twirl or laugh. Grandfather had been very patient with me that summer as though he knew what it had been like to lose my twin brother and to be the non-favorite child who survived. I didn’t know, but my parents were working through divorce proceedings while I played in the Ozarks, and my grandfather had a sense things
