Oliver’s GirlBy Michael Di Gesu
The pungent scent of weathered leaves carries through the billowing November wind. As they collect in front of Oliver’s front porch, he lazily rocks back and forth, lost in time.
A car approaches on the tree-lined street and parks in front of the Prairie-Styled home. The door opens, and out pops a blonde, pigtailed girl no more than eleven years old.
“G-dad,” she squeals and sprints up the front walk. “I can’t believe I’m finally here.”
Oliver props up, beaming at the young girl.
“Olivia. So good of you to visit me. It has been too long since I visited you in New York. You’re my favorite great-granddaughter, after all.”
“I’m your only great-granddaughter,” Olivia scoffs. “So, you really have no choice.”
Oliver chuckles. “True.”
A dark-haired woman ca
