She Became Me

2nd Place, September 2020: Lightbox Originals #100Words Story Competition

My grandmother wore black glasses and a mangle of bobby pins.

She told me tales of sailors navigating seas without stars.

I was afraid of her scratched, opaque glasses.

Her mumbled numbers when she walked up the stairs.

Her clattering and scuffing.

At the top of the lighthouse where the sky lives, my grandmother never admired the fuzzy pink twilight.

Or golden jewels on the waves at sunrise.

Instead, she admired the scent of sea, cry of gulls, my hair between her fingertips.

Some days, I wore her glasses to understand why. In time, they became mine.