The Plant Grandma Left Me

That night, my phone nearly leapt off the table with her urgent call.

“Get over here. Now.”

Carla’s voice was sharp with excitement. Breathless, I hurried across the hall and found her standing in her kitchen, my grandmother’s plant on the counter. In her hand was a tiny rusted key wrapped in an old handkerchief, my name stitched into the corner with crooked blue thread.

“I found it in the soil,” she whispered, still wide-eyed.

In that instant, my chest filled with something hard to describe — half disbelief, half a sudden weight of understanding. Grandma hadn’t just given me a plant. She had given me a puzzle.

Continue Reading…

Continue READING