“Bring me to Japan one day, Paul,” I said and held his hand, walking around him, which is something I used to do when Grandmama and I talked when I was little.
“You want to go there?” he asked me, watching me as I twirled around him.
“Uh-huh!” I answered, closing my eyes and imagining the place. “It’s a colorful place, Paul. Soft white in winter, lovely pink in spring, happy green in summer, and bright red and yellow in fall,” I told him dreamily.
“Soft white?” He repeated, narrowing his eyes as if trying to remember something.
“Grandmama used to visit the temples and shrines there in her younger days,” I smiled, remembering the old pictures in our photo album. She would tell me endless stories about the places she visited whenever we looked at the pictures.
He pulled me to him
