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Pakalaki Memories: 12

Kirby Wright

Ben said safe base was a black tombstone with offerings of oranges and incense sticks. The incense had burned away and fruit flies were camped on the oranges. I tagged him and reached safe base. Ben changed his mind about the headstone being safe and chased me around it. I accidentally kicked an orange and it rolled down the row of graves.

"Cut that out," my father said.

"No respect," Gramma said, shaking her head.

My father unfolded a map and pointed to an "x" made in pencil.

"Thirty three graves north of the curb," he said.

"Which way's north?" Ben asked.

"Toward the mountains."

Ben ran to the curb and started counting. When he reached thirty three, we looked down at a grave marked by gray granite laid flat on the earth. Pink veins ran through a slab that read:

GRANNY DEAR
Catarina Punawai Gill
1875—1949
Her Memory Will Live Forever

"How come it's not bigger?" I asked.

My father put his hands in his pockets. "She couldn't afford it."

"Can't we buy her a bigger one?"

"It's too late now."

"Yah kids help out," Gramma said.