Grandpa's Harmonica

Grandpa's Harmonica

Written by Diana Weeks
Art by Kay Sarver

A mixed group of girls his age were jumping rope next door when the moving van pulled up in front of his Grandpa's old house. Dark girls at each end were swinging two ropes that made fast sharp sounds slapping the cracked sidewalk.

The girls ignored he and his mother as they walked back and forth unloading the car. The youngsters were running in and out of the whizzing circles jumping and singing a double dutch song. Edward had never seen any game like that in the suburbs where he had lived.

He hated having to move to this old fashioned neighborhood, right in the middle of the school year. He wished his Grandpa hadn't died until summer. He wished his Grandfather hadn't died at all and left his Mom this big old place with pealing paint.

His divorced Mom had insisted. "It's closer to my work downtown and I was very happy growing up here. I'm going to let you have Dad's big room. And you can have all his things".

"How can I sleep in the room where he died"? He ashamed of the whining he could hear in his twelve year old voice.

His mother turned and put her hands on his shoulders. "His love for you is still here. Love never dies. Remember the things he taught you: like how to play his harmonica".
(Page 2)

The three moving men were very fast. Mom had given most of their furniture to his Dad and he promised to never be late with child support payments. She had them put her parent's old double bed in the garage and put in the bunk beds he'd had since he was eight.

They were sitting on the front porch steps relaxing sipping hot chocolate when they noticed an older woman coming from the house next door carrying a casserole dish. The most beautiful of the jump ropers was hanging on her porch rail pretending not to watch.

The woman spoke with an accent Ed had never heard before. "Welcome home" she said. I brought you a noodle dish with chicken. Your father was so kind to us when we first came to Houston. He befriended us before we had even learned English".

His mother rose. "Please come in. Dad said you checked on him everyday. He loved your Vietnamese food".

The grownups went inside. Ed looked over at the creamy skinned, dimpled, dark haired girl next door, and fingered the harmonica in his pocket. He wondered if his grandpa's dead spit would hurt him. Somehow he couldn't bare to wash it off.

He sauntered over to the tree between the yards, leaned against the trunk and looked at her not looking at him. He wanted to break through her Asian shyness. It must be possible her friends were all colors. He took off his jacket and spread it on the ground and sat down next to it. and slowly started playing the only song he knew. The instrument purred and pleaded out "Let Me Call you Sweetheart". She glanced over and he patted the place he had prepared for her and she smiled, skipped down her stairs and came toward him. Just walking made her hair bounce. Ed knew she was going to be fun.

THE END
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