\u201cWait up Jodi,\u201d\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma called. \u201cI need to fix his shoe!\u201d She bent to slip Jeremy\u2019s sandal back on his tiny foot. \u201cI don\u2019t know why your mom didn\u2019t buy you shoes that fit, kiddo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jeremy swayed, standing on one foot while\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma tightened the strap. His bright blue eyes scanned the crowd, looking far away like he always seemed to.<\/p>\n
A sound like the page turning sound in the books Miss Jackson plays for us drifts down the street. Around us, a group of guys in jackets like Dad\u2019s talk loudly to each other. Thick foam runs down their beer mugs and drips on their black motorcycle boots. Three kids whiz by on skateboards. One wears the same X-eyed smiley face shirt that my cousin Wyatt has. I hope they won\u2019t tease me like Wyatt and his friends do.<\/p>\n
Grandma licks her thumb and wipes dirt from Jeremy\u2019s face.<\/p>\n
That sound again\u2014a clinky sound that isn\u2019t a bell or a guitar. \u201cWhat\u2019s that noise,\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt sounds like a harp.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere is it? I want to see?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKeep walking. I\u2019m sure we\u2019ll find it.\u201d<\/p>\n
We walk past bright tents of paintings, jewelry, stuffed animals, and pottery. Two dogs sniff each other\u2019s butts and then bark, while their owners pull them in opposite directions.<\/p>\n
The buttery smell of popcorn mixes with barbecue ribs and funnel cakes. I am too busy looking for the sound that I almost step on someone\u2019s tossed cigarette butt, still lit.<\/p>\n
Up ahead, a blonde woman in a flowing dress sits in front of a massive wooden triangle, plucking strings. That is the sound. I dash toward her and weave through the circle of people watching. Her fingers move like water over the strings, and she grins at the crowd with perfect teeth.<\/p>\n
When her song ends, she smiles down at Jeremy and I.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind of instrument is that?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a harp. Do you want to try?\u201d<\/p>\n
I can\u2019t walk fast enough. Jeremy toddles behind me. His tiny sandals almost fall off again.<\/p>\n
She steps aside and I strum all the strings at once with both hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cBe careful Jodi,\u201d\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma calls from nearby. \u201cDon\u2019t break the strings!\u201d<\/p>\n
I jump up and down and try to make the loudest sound I can. For a second the harp drowns out my own laughter.<\/p>\n
\u201cLet Jeremy have a turn,\u201d\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma says through her smile. She nods at the harp\u2019s owner, who nods back.<\/p>\n
Jeremy steps up, one sandal hanging off his foot. He slaps the strings with sticky palms. His squeal of a laugh turns heads.<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks for letting them play it,\u201d\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma says to the blonde.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re welcome,\u201d she replies, shuffling sheet music.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on littles,\u201d\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma urges. \u201cLet\u2019s let her get back to playing for everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n
The sounds of the harp follow us into the crowd, past games. A juggler in neon pants throws bowling pins high in the air and catches them behind his back. The lady next to us frantically pulls the disposable camera off her wrist to photograph him.<\/p>\n
Someone hits the target on the dunktank hard, and a man in a suit drops like a brown blur into the water. Everyone cheers.<\/p>\n
A young couple ask Jeremy and I if we want to paint blocks of wood. \u201cCan we,\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma?\u201d I plead.<\/p>\n
\u201cGo ahead.\u201d\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma smiles and waves to a lady selling fudge.<\/p>\n
I dip a long-handled brush into thick purple paint and cover my block so none of the wood shows through. Jeremy puts his brush in three different colors and slaps a messy blob onto his. The woman bends beside him and shows him how to hold it. \u201cBrush the paint on like this honey.\u201d He points to a dixie cup full of sky blue, and she slides it closer. \u201cYou like blue? It\u2019s like your eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jeremy gives a bashful smile and looks away.<\/p>\n
I try to make a yellow star in the middle of my block, like the patches on Wyatt\u2019s shoes. But the paint turns muddy brown. I paint the star anyway and try to make all five points exactly the same.<\/p>\n
Jeremy bangs his brush on his block and spatters blue paint on the woman\u2019s apron. The couple laughs.<\/p>\n
The band on stage starts playing the Godzilla song Dad plays in the car.<\/p>\n
Grandma watches, feeding a small square of fudge into her mouth.<\/p>\n
A group of little girls chase each other by, their shoelaces bright as candy.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s gonna be a lady killer one day,\u201d the woman tells\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma, who is fixing Jeremy\u2019s sandal again. \u201cThose eyes!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe\u2019s got his Daddy\u2019s eyes,\u201d\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma brags.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have hazel eyes,\u201d I say too loudly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour eyes are pretty too.\u201d The woman nods halfheartedly and fusses over Jeremy\u2019s color-smeared block.<\/p>\n
The man sets our blocks on a cloth to dry. Jeremy presses his palms onto the table near his, like he doesn\u2019t want to leave it.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019ll get it later,\u201d\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma promises, ruffling his messy black hair.<\/p>\n
I look down at my sad poop colored star and shake my head.<\/p>\n
The crowd swallows us up again. A song is playing about a place with green grass and pretty girls. All other sound melts into the same roar. My ears buzz and I want a drink of water.<\/p>\n
Jeremy puts his small clammy hand in mine. We follow\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma into a small shop with a beaded curtain in the back. The air here is cooler, dimmer. It smells like dried flowers and the incense Mom and Dad burn when they shut the bedroom door.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou two wait right here,\u201d\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma says. \u201cI need to talk to my friends for a minute. I\u2019ll be right back.\u201d<\/p>\n
I take Jeremy\u2019s hand and lead him to the corner of the shop, where a giant terrarium full of plants glistens in the window. Tiny see-through pearls of condensation cling to the glass. A betta fish glides like a red and blue myth in a bowl nearby.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook, but don\u2019t touch,\u201d I whisper to Jeremy, who is enraptured by the colorful creature.<\/p>\n
Through the beaded curtain, I see\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma hug three women in long flowy dresses. One has brown designs on her hands like\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma\u2019s macrame plant holders.<\/p>\n
They form a circle around a small table. Bowls of water and salt are placed on a wooden star like the one I tried to paint on my block. The woman with painted hands takes bunches of flowers down from the ceiling and sprinkles them around the bowls.<\/p>\n
They join hands and sing words I don\u2019t understand.\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma\u2019s lips move in unison with theirs. They\u2019ve all done this before. Their song sounds like bees buzzing in the distance.<\/p>\n
Jeremy squeezes my hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cGo look at the fishy, Jeremy.\u201d<\/p>\n
He turns his head toward the betta, and then looks right back at\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma, feet glued to the floor.<\/p>\n
Grandma reaches in her patchwork shoulder bag, and pulls out a colorful object.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s mine!\u201d Jeremy says, pointing at his block.<\/p>\n
Grandma lays it on the table next to my blue scrunchie that I lost months ago.<\/p>\n
Decorated hands wave over the items, drawing symbols in the air. One woman sprinkles water and salt on them, while another waves a smoky white bundle.\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma drips white wax on both and ties a red string around each.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy bwock,\u201d Jeremy sobs next to me. Tears streak his small face and his little body shakes.<\/p>\n
I wrap my arms around him. \u201cIt\u2019s okay.\u201d<\/p>\n
He collapses to the checkered floor, a mess of tears and wails.<\/p>\n
The women look up, and\u00a0 \u00a0 Grandma turns around, but they don\u2019t break the circle. I sit beside him and whisper: \u201cRemember on The Simpsons when Homer fell down the gorge? Doh!\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiles through tears, and gives a small, gruff, \u201cDoh\u201d of his own.<\/p>\n
\u201cRemember when Bart called Moe\u2019s and asked for a guy named Hugh Jass?\u201d<\/p>\n
He laughs as if his block of wood never existed.<\/p>\n
Grandma said her goodbyes to the three women and pushed the beads aside. The bamboo clicked on her long nails. She pressed a cone of sugared almonds into my hand and kissed Jeremy\u2019s hair.<\/p>\n
The shop fades into the background when we walk back up the street. We pass the harp player again. Her beautiful blonde hair blows around her and her hands shimmer on the strings.<\/p>\n
We never went back for my block.<\/p>\n
Thanks for reading! Follow me on twitter at: https:\/\/x.com\/Valkrane<\/a><\/p>\n Like my author page on Facebook: https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/profile.php?id=61569818831489<\/a><\/p>\n