The sun is setting behind the hilly, tree-studded horizon. Darkness envelops our car. My husband guides the steering wheel. I stroke my late grandmother’s silver spoon, hung around my neck with black ribbon. Pittsburgh’s yellow bridges and gleaming city lights greet us, but I am lost in another time. Grandma’s melodic, uninhibited laughter scattered throughout my life’s soundtrack—when I lost my first tooth, after the school play, on our wedding day. As we navigate the city, the radio music floats between us. Suddenly, I laugh, an echo of my grandmother’s, a link to who I am and who I’ve been.
Bethany Jarmul is a writer and poet from Pittsburgh. Her work has appeared in numerous literary magazines and been nominated for Best of the Net. Find Bethany at bethanyjarmul.com and on Twitter @BethanyJarmul.