Grandmother’s Dreamcatcher

The jeep grumbles and growls along the road. The top is rolled down, and the wind lifts the corner of my bandanna. Daddy and Mama are taking me to Grandmother’s cabin way out in the woods by a lake. I will stay with her while Daddy and Mama find a home near Daddy’s new job in Chicago.
When Daddy turns, the road becomes skinny like a snake. I lean back and close my eyes. I picture Grandmother in her blue cotton dress with the little flowers I can only see when I am close enough for a hug. Grandmother is Chippewa, like us. She is tiny and brown, with dark, shiny eyes that wrinkle in the corners when she smiles. She is almost light enough for me to lift in the air.
That is what I will do someday when I am a bigger girl. I will lift my grandmother into the sky. She will flutter and fly and sound like a bird when she laughs as we float above the trees.
The jeep stops. It is night outside. Grandmother opens my door before I do, and I tumble toward her, half-asleep. I lean against her as we walk to the cabin. The chilly night wind races through the trees and around me.