Building a Blogging Habit: Day 9, Changing Moccasins–Point of View

Chapter One: Alistair

The sun was only beginning to peek from the mountains, and the clouds were as pink as my mom’s champagne pearls. Elowen and I ran across the grassy area of Vonnie Park, hand in hand, laughing. We must’ve looked like extremely wild oversized kids with caffeinated personalities, Elowen’s honey-dipped tomato hair trailing behind in the wind.

We had carried our tin can stilts, which we’d made ten years ago as kids, with us. Today was Sunday, and Sunday meant the Tin Can Races, as well as a Tin Can Race dare. It was Elowen’s turn to make a dare: “I dare you to bunny-hop the whole race.”

“Using my tin can stilts?”

“Of course you’re using your tin can stilts, stupid boy,” she said, ruffling my hair.

Just when we were about to take off, I heard a faint clicking. “What was that?” Elowen didn’t know. We went to investigate, and we came to a woman. An elderly woman, with silvery blond hair braided in a bun. The clicking came from the elderly woman’s knitting needles, who were busy making a tiny pair of overalls. Suddenly, my face felt wet, and some drops of salty water ran down my cheeks.

What the heck was happening?

As I searched for an explanation, I recognized the elderly woman. It was my grandmother Corona, whom we all knew as Grammy! Years ago, she had vanished without a trace, and the case had gone cold. We’d all thought she’d passed on, but we thought wrong.

“Grammy, it’s me! Alistair!” I cried out, and gave her a big hug.


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