On the way down to the shop,
I notice there are still
so many cracks in the concrete,
bits of glass
along the side of the road,
but things are getting better
little by little.
I drop invitations to Mr. Dimitri
and Mr. Cohen and Mrs. Li.
In the shop
my grandfather is cleaning
his tools, wiping them
with an old rag
that smells like castor oil.
Grandpa, I need to show you something.
I pull out the bareket,
hold it in the center of my palm.
I thought it was lost?
We found it.
Well, sort of.
It kind of found us?
He smiles.
Life is a mystery, isn’t it?
You think you know everything,
but it’s mystery that makes us human.
That forest you go to, this stone,
all the way back to the Calypso,
the Dead Sea,
Prague,
and even before that.
Don’t forget what this feels like.
Don’t ever lose your sense of wonder.
He squeezes my shoulders with his giant hands
like he’s pressing the words into me.
Then, all at once, I put my hands
on his shoulders and squeeze right back.