Page 86 - North Star Magazine 2022

Okay, I can do that.
Do you know how to spell it?
Of course, it’s [x]-[x]-[x]. Same way it’s always been. ...Never mind, then. I just want gift cards.
Three weeks after my twenty-first birthday, my grandfather sent me a new Kindle. I didn’t need one, but he insisted, saying that he’d loaded it with all of the books I’d asked for and that I would like the new, sleeker design.
It had taken a while to come in and he’d spent weeks getting every book I had asked for, so it couldn’t have been a Christmas gift.
It came with an envelope with the registration information written in his distinctive, clear block print: a name, an email, and a password.
I had to set up a new email for you to register this.
Why didn’t you ask me for one I already had?
This was easier. Besides, that would have spoiled the surprise. You told me I was getting this, Papa, or did you forget? That’s not the surprise.
The machine turned on and glowed warmly, words typing themselves out across the screen as it booted up for the first time since it had been sent. My tears flowed freely down my cheeks and I found myself gasping for breath.
Welcome back, River.
Whether or not you see it, and whether or not they can say it, there is always hope in the smallest of details. I remember this now as I smile at the court order on the table. In the morning I will submit a notice to the newspaper, and on the way home I will pick up the paperwork to get a new driver’s license. Being happy, just existing as who I am, is the point.