The Red Marble

Grandma Mathilda was baking my favorite Apricot Torte when I walked into the kitchen.  Baking utensils, flour, sugar, butter and fresh apricots were scattered about. Earlier that morning, after being awakened by Wilber, the grandfather of all feisty roosters, we sauntered out to the fruit orchard (all of 5 trees!) to gather fresh apricots. We were both early risers and it was our time, grandma and me.  With her calloused warm hand around mine we quietly slipped out. My small steps could hardly keep up with hers but over the years my stride caught up.  Grandma was only 21 when Grandpa Walter died. I did not know him but "I did". Our orchard trips were filled of stories when Grandma and Grandpa were just starting out. They were poor but wealthy in love and thirsty for life. Just 12 when they met they played in the grassy Alp fields, ran through mud puddles, and swam in the quiet cool lakes while frogs hummed their tunes and mosquito's volleyed for time. Their favorite game was marbles. Everywhere they went the marbles came along in their soft weathered brown leather pouch. There was one red marble and it signified their friendship. It was never a part of the game but lain near the circle of marbles watching as if a guardian. Grandma and Grandpa married at 17, not so young then and started their life raising goats and making cheese. Each night they ended the day with a game of marbles, the red marble guarding over them. Once a month they trekked down to the valley from their alpine town to sell the soft-aged cheese. The red marble came along too. It was always with them, a symbol of their unity. When Grandpa fell ill with fever and passed away Grandma cried quietly and her once playful smile lay still. Each night she took out the bag of marbles and played for Grandpa, the red marble in its natural place. Over the years Grandma started a new tradition with the red marble and perched it atop each finished pie or cake she made. Sometimes she'd hide it under my pillow or I'd find it in a pair of socks. It was her way of sharing Grandpa and it made me smile, and her too. When Grandma passed away I was given a small box.  I open it and there was the musty leather bag of marbles. I opened it to find the red marble. I held it snug in my hand, closed my eyes and remembered our early morning walks to the orchard. My heart wept, my eyes watered, a tear traveled my cheek….. I smiled.