“That’s the stern piece now,” he said.
It sits on the side table between him and his granddaughter, Lana. It’s a battered piece of tin and glass, blackened by decades of soot. To anyone else, it’s a relic. To Lana Smalls, 17, it is the unspoken center of her universe. lana smalls grandpa
Silas didn’t say, “It’s okay.” He didn’t say, “We’ll buy another.” He picked up the short plank, turned it over in his gnarled, arthritic hands, and set it aside. “That’s the stern piece now,” he said
He hands her the piece of pine he’s been carving. It’s a small bird, wings spread, mid-flight. She turns it over. On the bottom, in shaky, beautiful script, he has carved three words: “That’s the stern piece now
