Notes:
My website, for more of my fic, can be found
here.
This fic is based on the books. It has nothing to do with the miniseries.
I recommend reading the books, because they are fabulous in every way.
Grandfather
For Mathaira,
who is always such an inspiration
And for my grandparents
across the seas
who don't know who I am
"Grandfather!"
she found him walking
up past the garden
of the shared space
at the residential home
for the old.
"Look at this."
She held in her arms
a book
its pictures vibrant
its pages crisp.
He looked at her,
a smile on his face.
"I wondered if
you would read it,"
he said.
"Your brother didn't."
"That's cos he's a klutz,"
she shrugged
as if it did not matter
and it didn't.
They walked together
past the garden
into the forest.
"Grandfather,"
she ran ahead
to a bench
and patted the wood
beside her.
He sat with a smile
on his wise, old face.
"What is it?"
he asked.
"Grandfather,"
she seemed to be sad,
her voice almost cracking.
"Look!"
and she held out the book
its pages flipping open
and there stood an old man
on steps of stone
above the waterfalls.
"That's you, grandfather!"
she said.
He chuckled.
"No, my dear."
If he expected her face
to fall
he was mistaken.
She just smiled
her eyes alive
and dancing.
"Grandfather!
Don't lie."
Her tone was that of
rebuke
a thousand years older
than her young body
would suggest.
And he wouldn't
have believed her
but her eyes were
a thousand years older
as well.
He looked at her
a smile on his lips
And he looked over
the picture
the man
the hair! Oh,
the hair!
"My dear," he said to her.
"What do you see here?"
"I see you,"
she said,
her voice the voice
of youth.
Speaking only truth.
"And when you look out there?"
he raised his arm
and pointed.
She looked where he looked
And he wanted to see
what she saw.
Because her face lit up
and her eyes glistened with tears.
"Mommy says they aren't real,"
she breathed.
"But I knew
you would see."
"I don't, child,"
he confessed, his voice
and his heart
breaking in two.
"I don't see
what you see."
"No, grandfather,"
her tone was bossy, then.
Bossy because
she reached over
and put her hands
on each side of his head.
"You have to stop
looking at the garden!
Look at the grass
over there."
Her little hands guided his eyes
and he blinked,
disbelieving.
"I see them,"
he told her.
His eyes opening wide.
A smile on his tired old face.
"I'm sorry,
grandfather,"
she told him, then.
Her voice broke.
Tears fell.
"Oh, my dear,"
he reached to her,
wrapping his arms
around her heavy jacket,
the breeze picking up
around them.
"There's no harm in
seeing."
"Mommy says-"
her voice broke.
Tears were falling,
her cheeks glistening.
"Mommy is wrong,"
he sighed.
"Grandfather?"
she didn't understand.
They watched
triceratops grazing
and skybax gliding.
They heard the whuff
and both of them ducked
as the brachiosaurus
rained leaves down
upon them.
"Annie!"
came the call from the road.
Her mother
was businesslike
and her voice
not laughing.
"Thank you,
grandfather,"
she whispered,
sighing as she rose
to leave.
"Anytime, my dear,"
he smiled at her,
holding out the book.
"Just promise me-"
she turned back
her face quizzical.
"Yes, grandfather?"
"Promise me, that
you will read that book.
But that you will also
write your own books."
"Yes, grandfather!"
she laughed
and he saw the look
on her mother's face
from the trail.
Disapproving.
"And never lie,"
he added swiftly.
"Never, ever lie."
"Yes, grandfather,"
she whispered.
And they embraced.
Standing
in their own minds
on the stone steps
above the waterfalls.
Oh,
he laughed to himself
as he watched her run
towards her mother.
The hair! What hair!
He remembered the hair.
He remembered young Will,
and the equally young Sylvia,
with fondness.
He remembered nights
curled on the sofa
with the woman
whose eyes were now
frosty,
whose mouth was now
thin.
He remembered the look
on her face when Arthur
journeyed into the depths
with the dastardly
Lee Crabb, and when
Melanie spoke of her friends,
the plants.
So he smiled with the memories,
and then ducked,
because
the brachiosaurus was whuffing
against the green leaves
of the old maple tree.