I'm not sure what made me cry that day. The truth evades me even now. At the time i was only five or so.
I'm in my grandma's living room, on her white shag rug. The thick feel of it under me, the way the light from the sunday sun hits the window just right. The light fills the room with a sense of warmth and love. Here is where i lay, in my cartoon pajamas, tummy full of homemade pancakes, admirering the glass figurens. Glass dolls from Puerto Rico and statues from passed-away relatives. Here is where i find it. It is a staue of two glass white swans.

A male and a female. Their wings enclosing each other, their feather abound. When you turn a cranck on the botton they eminate a musical splendor. The song is Tchaikovsky's Pas de deux. I watch as the swans spin in an everlasting dance. it brings me to tears....and i am only five.

Despite what will hapen to this younge girl only five or six years later in this very house. IN THAT VERY HOUSE... The family secret that must always be kept from grandma. The sorrow that runs DEEP into one's heart....
In that moment i realise that i must die. i am only five.

Grandma runs down in her old slippers. She askes me whats wrong. I ask her if I'm going to die. She says no. I still cry.
Years later from that day, long after the childhood nightmare that will befall me, i am older now. My grandmother gives me the swans, it is thanksgiving day. I have never been happier.


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