Free Live Like You Were Dying by Michael Morris

pull him up the rest of the way. I laughed out loud looking at Malley. The John Deere cap was knocked sideways, and her designer sunglasses dangled from her nose, making her look like an old lady. “Go, Malley! Go, Malley!” I yelled, churning the water with my hands. I jumped up and down on the muddy floor of that pond and hollered loud enough for all of Choctaw to hear me. It felt good to cheer for my baby girl.
    Back at Grand Vestal’s, Heather took a picture of the three of us with Malley pointing to the fifteen-pound bass hanging from the fence post. I hung the photo on the refrigerator door as a reminder to jump in with both feet and savor the victories.
    After supper Malley was still basking in her triumph when she emerged into the living room carrying an oak box decorated with carved doves.
    â€œWhatcha got there?” I asked, sipping the latest herb tea that Grand Vestal had placed before me.
    â€œI don’t know, but it was underneath my bed, covered in bubble paper.” Malley sat the box down in the middle of the floor and started to unlatch the gold lock.
    Heather leaned forward from the easy chair where she sat curled up, reading a book. “Hold it. This is Grand Vestal’s house. So, therefore, that makes it her box. Don’t you think you should ask permission before you start plundering around?”
    Grand Vestal walked from the kitchen carrying a dish towel. She looked down at the box and into the wide green eyes of Malley, who was kneeling next to it.
    â€œI found this under the bed. Can I look through it?”
    Grand Vestal sat on the edge of the sofa and ran the tip of her finger over the gold handle. “I expect you should. It’s gonna be yours someday.”
    Malley looked at me, and I only shrugged.
    â€œIt was my daughter’s hope chest. Your grandmama’s. Her dreams are tucked away in there. One day I expect you’ll put your hopes in there too.”
    Getting on the floor next to Malley, I found myself running my hand over the carved grooves. “I never saw this.”
    â€œYou’d be surprised,” Grand Vestal said and winked. “You might recognize a thing or two in it.” Grand Vestal opened up the box, and the smell of aged cedar flowed through the living room.
    My father came out of the kitchen and joined us in the living room as we pulled out the clippings from the paper about my mother, Barbara Rickers, playing in a piano recital. Grand Vestal sat on the sofa, touching each item as it was passed to her. Malley pulled out an old black-and-white photograph of my mother and father with their arms wrapped around each other and handed it to my father. “Now, who is this ugly, skinny boy standing next to that pretty gal?” he asked. Army barracks and snow were scattered in the background of the photo. Even though she had a coat on and her hands were tucked in the coat pockets, you could still tell that my mama was pregnant.
    Grand Vestal leaned over the sofa so she could see the photograph. “That was in Colorado when Ronnie was serving in the army.” She swatted his arm. “Umm, it liked to have tore me to pieces the day you took my girl so far away.” My father shifted his weight in the chair and reached over to examine a figurine of a dog on the table next to him.
    â€œThat’s where I was born,” I said.
    Malley looked deeper into the picture as if she might be able to see through the coat and my mother’s womb and find me.
    While we all laughed at the styles from the past and listened to Grand Vestal tell stories about the pictures, I dug out a gold-colored photo album with drawings of trees etched across the cover. The album and the smell of its pages teased the farthest corners of my mind.
    When I opened the album and saw the yellowed newspaper clippings, it hit me. Suddenly, I was once again with my mother, sitting at our kitchen table in the green-vinyl chairs and talking about the