I'm going to change the beginning, but I like the rapport between these two. I'm just not sure what to do with them now
. Any ideas?
Umbrellas in the Snow
The young boy and an old woman walk along the beach, trodding through the fallen snow. The frigid waters of Lake Superior crash along the shore like watery giants. The woman is spindly and thin, and she pulls her heavy wool coat tighter around her waist. She wears a thick stocking cap which makes her looks like a submarine captain. Her face is crisscrossed with wrinkles, as many from crying as from laughing. The boy is crammed into a bright blue snowsuit. He plods along like a tiny Michelin Man. He studies the old woman as they walk.
“Grandma Apple, why did you bring an umbrella on our walk?” he asks.
“It helps me along,” she tells him.
“Why don’t you just use a cane?”
She scowls. “I don’t need a cane, Joey. Your grandma can get along just fine without a cane. Besides, what if it rains and I didn’t bring an umbrella? Then what? You’d get all wet.”
“But Grandma, it’s winter,” Joey says, laughing. “It snows in the winter.”
“The world is a wonderful place,” she tells him. “You never know what’s going to be around the next bend.”
“What’s so wonderful about it?”
“Oh Joey, lots of things. Did you know there are lizards that can change colors? They can be as red as your hat or as black as my boots.”
“Lizards? Eeeeewwww.”
“All right then, what about whales? Some whales grow to be bigger than your school bus.”
“Bigger than even the big yellow bus? What do they eat? Cows?”
“No, they eat krill.”
“What’s krill?”
“Krill are like little bitty shrimp,” she tells him, holding her fingers half an inch apart.
“So how do the whales get so big if they only eat little krills?”
“They eat a whole lot of them.”
“Are there any whales or krills out there?” Joey asks, pointing out at the big lake.
“Nope. Some sturgeon maybe.”
“Sturgeon?’
“They’re like big, old, dinosaur fish.”
“I want a dinosaur fish! He could be friends with Steve.”
“Is Steve your goldfish?”
Joey nods. “He’s my friend, too. We do homework together sometimes, and I tell him stories.”
“Do you have lots of friends? Other than goldfish, I mean?”
“Sure. I play with Tim and Dan and Tony and the other Tim and Lisa. I’ve got lots of friends. What about you Grandma? Do you have lots of friends?”
“Oh, not as many as I used to,” she tells him. “I had quite a few in my day, but many of them have passed away now.”
“Like Grandpa?” She nods. “Are you going to pass away, Grandma Apple?”
“Yes, Joey, eventually I will.” His eyes grow wider. “Oh, don’t worry, child. I don’t plan on moving on for quite some time. I’ve got lots of life left in me.”
“Promise?”
“I do.”
“But what if you don’t know when you’re going to die?”
“Who is better to know when I’m going to die than me, hmmm?” Joey chews over this for a minute as their footsteps squeak along the snowy beach.
“What if you die before we come back?”
“Joey, you’re only going to Colorado. You’re not going to the moon. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.”
“I don’t want to go to Colorado.”
“Why not? It’s just like Minnesota, just with mountains instead of lakes.”
“I hate mountains.”
“Oh stop. You don’t hate mountains. You’ve never even seen any of them. I’ll be you even learn how to ski in Colorado.”
“But I’m going to miss everything here,” Joey protested. “I’m gonna to miss you and the lake and the snow and my friends and everything else. I’m gonna miss home.”
“You’ll have a new home. You’ll make new friends and have a new house and a new school and new things to do. You’ll see, Joey. You’ll love it. Sometimes we have to let things change.”
“Why?”
“Because things change weather we want them to or not, just like the colors on the lizard. You just have to make the best of things.”
The two of them walked on, one small set of footsteps next to a larger set, the snow punctured every few feet by the point of an umbrella. As they turned around and headed home, it started to rain.
