“Just a sugar shaker”
It stands on my dining room table. Tarnished silver-plated top, chunky heavy fluted glass below. My grandmother’s sugar shaker, with a dusty crystalline residue of caster sugar that hasn’t been replaced since she died in 1984. Nearly 42 years since that January day, with pewter grey storm clouds and fleeting rainbows, when the impossible happened and she died. Well, it wasn’t impossible, she was 91 years old after all. But I just had never considered it possible that this strong woman with...