Memory is a funny thing. Those moments in our lives — the really important ones that stay with us forever — have a strange way of resurrecting themselves, time and time again. I never wanted to forget anyway. Not this one. Not this time. Not ever.
Despite the late afternoon sun waning towards twilight, it was still warm enough for my dog, Sunny, and I to walk along the beach. As we were walking, I watched the fog bank hanging over the horizon, and felt the first hints of the evening breeze pushing towards shore. A red tennis ball bumped my shoe. Bending down, I picked it up and saw a young girl standing a few feet away from me. She looked longingly at the ball in my hand, but said nothing. Handing it to her I smiled and said, "This must belong to you."
"Thanks," she said, taking the ball. She hesitated as if she wanted to say something further. Instead, she looked down. Just then Sunny ran over to her, raised herself up on her hind legs, and twirled in a little circle as she pawed the air. The child laughed. Sunlight lit up her gray eyes and brought out the golden highlights in her long auburn hair. Freckles dusted her nose and cheeks.
Sunny's begging dance seemed to make her brave. "Can I pet your dog?" she asked.
"Of course." I said, smiling at her. "You can throw your ball for her if you'd like. She just lost hers."
I watched as the girl leaned over Sunny, patted her small white head, then flung the ball down the beach. They both chased after it. Sunny ran back to me, red ball in her mouth, and the girl followed, her face flushed with laughter. Sunny dropped the ball. Bending down to pick it up, the child stopped suddenly, staring. I followed her gaze to my arm. "You're wondering about that. It's a gift from Tanya, my granddaughter."
"Oh." She smiled up at me, relaxed and easy now, as if throwing the ball for Sunny had forged a bond between us. A sweet ache of sorrow pierced through me. She looked so much like her. Too much like her. It all came rushing back, and once again I was with my Tanya in that room. I saw her small figure in the bed under her pink and white bedspread, and her two favorite stuffed animals: a brown bunny and an orange cat.
Although it had been late afternoon, the curtains had been drawn against the sun. I opened the drapes and the window, letting in the warm spring air.
"I've brought you something." I told Tanya, holding out a red tennis ball. "You can throw it for Sunny when you feel better." Although I tried to look happy, my face must have betrayed what we both knew.
"Grandma," she said softly. "It's okay … I know."
"Know what, my Tanya?"
Looking up at me from the pillow, she squeezed my hand and smiled. Light brown freckles brushed across her nose and cheeks, the only color in her pale skin. I looked back at her and felt a rush of love. Her eyes were gray, calm as the still sea on an overcast day. Eyes that knew me from the moment she was born. Her long auburn hair spread out around her like a fan. She said again, "I know. It's okay."
I turned my head away.
"Please don't cry."
Hot tears blurred my vision and ran down my cheeks. She reached up with her finger and caught one, holding it out to me. She said, "Look, do you see the rainbow? I think we are all like God, Grandma. Every time we plant something or draw a picture or make something, we are like God. Don't you think so?"
"Yes," I whispered. We stayed silent for a while, holding hands.
Then she looked at me.
"Grandma, will you take me outside? I want to see the sun." I bent down and lifted her in my arms. Although she was seven years old, she was as light as if she were two. She smiled and I felt as though I were looking into the face of an angel. Her skin was white, almost translucent. I could see her pulse in a thin blue vein that ran down her forehead. It was as if she could fade into the air at any moment.
I carried her into the garden and sat behind her on the grass so that she leaned against my chest. Small white dandelions poked their tiny heads up toward the sun. She lifted her head, too, letting the light shine on her face.
"Grandma?"
"Yes, love."
"Grandma, do you still have your pen?"
"Yes. Here it is." I placed my pen in Tanya's small hand.
"Give me your arm," she said, raising the pen. "I'm going to draw a picture for you." I put my arm out to her. Her hand trembling with effort, she drew a sun with rays coming out of it. Below, she drew several daisy-like flowers. Two of the flowers nestled close to each other, a big one, and a smaller one. "That's you and that's me," she explained, pointing to the two flowers. "Always together." She turned round, looked at me, and smiled. "It will be okay, Grandma. Don't worry." She yawned, and said. "I feel sleepy. Can you take me to bed now?"
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The man in the tattoo parlor stared at me. "You're not our usual customer. Are you sure you know what you're doing? It hurts. It hurts a lot, lady."
I held his gaze.
###
"Tanya," The girl was saying. "That's a pretty name."
"Yes. Yes, it is." I looked down into her wide gray eyes. "Would you like to throw the ball again?"
She threw it and ran, laughing, after Sunny. The tennis ball bounced and rolled down the shore, its red color bright against the darkened sand. I watched the girl and Sunny racing after it. After Sunny caught the ball, she dropped it at the girl's feet. Picking it up, the girl didn't throw it, but instead held it high above Sunny's head. The little dog alternated between leaping in the air and dancing on her hind legs. Shrieking with laughter, the child ran in a little circle, Sunny bounding after her, barking, tail wagging furiously.
Cool breezes swept in towards the shore, pushing the fog in from the horizon. I could just make out the sun's dim circle, hiding behind the gray, as the clouds passed over it. Suddenly it burst through, casting out a single shaft of light; skipping gold dust across the swells, kissing their white crests with brilliance, catching the girl and Sunny dancing in its yellow glow, warming my face and body. I saw Tanya's eyes in the sea, heard her laughter echoing amongst the crashing waves. Looking down at my arm, I saw Tanya's sun shining there as if it were generating its own light. The two daisies drawn below it clustered close, the larger one leaning over the smaller. Together. Always together. Faces lifted toward the sun.
