Mom and Dad were already awake and bustling when I woke up. I lumber down the stairs to see Mom scrubbing the long-settled black goop out of an old vase, which until this morning lay undisturbed in Gran’s old room.
Dad shuttles between Gran’s room and the garage – his hands full of dusty relics and his mouth full of swear words.
Gran’s room will look lovely. Uncle Dom, Gran’s adopted son and a billionaire, will feel happy. She should’ve gone to live with him. Gran loved Mom a bit more, I guess.
The discarded piano somehow reminds me of Gran.