Pastel Leticia Cheng, 9San Jose, CA
June 2022
Lines of Grace
My hand on paper Frozen in midair What should I write? About the wind on my face? The coolness of winter? The rays in the jubilant sky? I sit, in thought My mind reaches Trying to pull From the deepest part of mind Ideas I think The show last week The blue jay sitting in a tree Vines from our plant Reaching up to the sky One comes My hand starts moving Alive again With joy and grace Words appear Sitting there Boring looking Black and normal But yet What would I do without them? They are my lines of grace My way of communicating They are my language. Emily Yen, 11Houston TX
Losing Nani
After her grandmother dies, Maya reflects on what she most loved about her This December, I lost my nani (granny). I cannot even begin to describe the pain I feel right now. A lot of things I see around me have a bit of her in them; a lot reminds me of her. She had the most wonderful smile, and it aches my heart to know I will never see that smiling face again. A few months ago I read a book called Losing Grandpa. It is about a little girl who loses her wonderful grandfather to illness. It made me very sad, but I never thought that the same thing would happen to me, and so soon. Nani ran a little bookshop. She started it on her own. I used to spend hours in the shop with her, reading, talking, arranging books. She taught me about the magic of books, but she was never preachy. She used to weave stories around everything. She introduced me to many authors, like William Shakespeare and Charles Dickens—the first book I remember reading with her was Macbeth, Usborne Classics. We discussed it for hours . . . Once, a barefoot kid came to the shop and asked her how much for a pen. She said that there are many types of pens—some were for ten and some were for five and some for three. When he heard the number three, he was pleased. But his friend then asked him where he would even write with it. My lovely nani asked, “What do you write on?” Woman with Chicken He said that he wrote everything on a wall or on the road. My nani asked, “With what?” He shrugged and said, “With coal!” like it was the most natural thing to do. My nani smiled and then gave him a full set of pens, notebooks, and stationery. She said, “Write to your heart’s content, beta (my child) and come back for more when you are done. But you need to show me what you write.” This was Nani, always ready to help, caring, loving, working . . . I have learnt so much from her— she loved plants, she loved to cook, she loved to read . . . Once, I thought we could make a precious snack for all of us to eat together. My nani knew of a biscuit, and we decided to make it. At first I struggled, but my patient nani kept trying to fix it. My nani taught me so well that I finally made the biscuit even better than her. I kissed her and thanked her for teaching me how to make such a lovely biscuit. And we all had a yummy snack. What I am trying to say is that all grandmothers are wonderful, loving, and kind. They liven things up. But my nani was extraordinarily incredible. I love you, Nani. I will miss you always. Please be happy wherever you are. Maya Hooda, 10Noida, India Claire Jiang, 13Princeton, NJ