Route 7 Review - Page 105

“This has been in my possession for almost fifty years,” Grandfather began. “It’s served me well, but I always meant to pass it on. I had decided to give it your father a long time ago, but… Well, I couldn’t quite give it up, and for that I’m sorry.” “I don’t understand.” He knew next to nothing of his Grandfather’s life, and hadn’t talked to him much when he visited. “No, no, you don’t.” Grandfather smiled. “It will take some explaining, I suppose, and some believing. But we’ll get to that. Go on, open it.” He nudged the box towards him. He eagerly ripped the bow off, and unlatched the box. In it was the same camera that he stared at now, a little newer and a little shinier, but still very apparently old. Older than anything that he had ever held in his hands as a young boy. Grandfather was looking at him with a gleam in his eyes. As such, he tried to summon all the energy that he could. “Thank you so much, Grandfather!” “You have no idea what this is, do you?” The only response from the timid little boy was a nod. Grandfather laughed and patted his knee. When he got up on his lap, Grandfather chuckled again. “Where to even begin?” He thought for a moment, then his eyes lit up as he thought of something. “Do you believe in magic, son?” He remembered that moment, listening to Grandfather. How his heart somehow leapt and dropped at the same time. Magic wasn’t real. That was for movies, for the cartoons and fairy tales that he watched with his parents. Adults weren’t supposed to know about magic, to ask about magic, to believe in magic. So he shook his head no. Grandfather nodded. “I didn’t think so. That’s the right answer, of course, and maybe ‘magic’ is the wrong word for it. Smarter men than I could tell you what it is, probably. Maybe not. I’ll tell you it the way that it was told to me. Magic.” At this point, he was utterly transfixed. A little voice in the back of his head whispered to him that what he was hearing couldn’t possibly be real. Maybe Grandfather was crazy. He had certainly never heard him talk this much before. What was the word he had heard his mom use to describe some of her patients in the hospital? Senile? “I know that doesn’t carry a lot of weight nowadays. People like you are being taught to stop believing in magic. Maybe you already have. I certainly had when I got what you’re holding.” “Who gave this to you?” He asked, not being able to help himself. “I got it when I was a boy, just like you. It wasn’t at a party, of course. My family growing up wasn’t always doing okay. We all had to help out to make ends meet.” When he looked up, Grandfather’s eyes were ages away. “I got a job delivering milk.” He laughed. “Yes, back then milk was delivered in the mornings. It was a good job for someone my age.” “What happened?” “One day, I was making my deliveries. It was early, early morning,