To Wink This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

February 26, 2015

Going through her old drawers, I was looking for something that could prove she was still alive. It hasn’t been long – maybe three weeks since her passing. I always feel that when I walk into her room, she’ll be sitting there in her old-fashioned pink recliner, reading her mystery books. I remember having to call her name a few times before she heard me. Either she was so into the book or her hearing aid was off. She’d put in the rubber band she uses as a bookmark to keep her page and hug me.

But this time it was different. Her bed was smaller. Instead of a queen it was a twin size. I asked her where her other one went and she said it was in the garage. She was getting a hospital bed pretty soon. My heart sank noticing the oxygen tanks in the corner of the room. This was to be her last chapter and I knew it.

She’d always wink at me as if she was trying to tell me something, it was like a language we had. She said that my great-grandpa was waiting for her. Granny is – or I should say was – 90. I loved the interesting earrings she wore, the way she always wore red lipstick, and how she loved me. I miss how she always had candy for me, how she put her hands together when she was excited, and above all I just miss her.

I wink a lot now. 

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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