Grace was my grandmother’s name. She died when my mother was three. I have a photograph taken on the day she married Neal Oliver, my grandfather. He has hair in this photograph. When I met him, he was bald.
Standing in a field of wheat on the prairie in Beechy, Saskatchewan, I shut my eyes and pick up a handful of dirt, wishing. I went back in time, to 1936. I am standing in front of the home Grace lived in with Neal, Leroy, Charlie and Berdeane, my mother.
Grace was standing outside her home shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand, looking for someone. She wiped her hands on a towel and went back inside the house.
I wish she hadn’t died. I wish I could have met her.
The photograph is black and white. Grace’s hair is red.
I have red highlights in my hair.
Grace, my grandmother.
Have you ever dreamed you could time travel and meet a relative who died before you were born?
Please tell me in the comments.
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Writing for 5 minute Friday with Lisa-Jo Baker. Unedited, writing for 5 minutes. You can read other 5 Minute Friday stories here.
