Midsummer in Portland by Matt Ho

Last midsummer, Silvia and Pearl visited Portland in Maine, that place where their grandmother
had chosen to reside. Their grandmother’s name was Olivia, and that’s what they called her. This
is one way Olivia would relive her youth, the other by observing her daughter’s daughters. Olivia
was simple and appreciated their desire for life. As the two would say: if that summer were a
film, they would be cast in the starring roles. Silvia never failed to follow the grooviest beat
down the street to whatever party awaited. Not bat mitsvahs, nor weddings, nor retirement
parties could she be kept out of. Long as the music played, Silvia danced and danced so joyously
the guests would forget she crashed the occasion. Meanwhile, Pearl made conversation with any
person willing to entertain. Pearl’s beaming smile garnered a reputation; one so infectious it
softened any stranger she met. So empathetic, anyone could move Pearl to laugh or cry or gasp.
Little did these partners of conversation and dance know the girls would soon leave, for Olivia
did what all grandmothers do. Yet Olivia’s wake was the most joyful Portland ever saw because
Silvia and Pearl promised to do what they knew best.