Simply Inherited

What was left of 16-year-old Azura's heart was a sadness unbearable with the death of her grandmother. Getting ready for Sunday morning church, October 13, was the easiest compared to the events an hour before the service. Azura remembered tying her shoes before hearing her mother burst through the back door, crying hysterically about the absence of a soul now gone from the world.

Her stepfather rushed to his wife's side, knowing all too well what needed to be done. Console the broken hearts, see the decedent with his own eyes, call for the fire department (in order for them to pronounce the death as well). Azura fell to the wayside becoming the unnoticeable wallflower. It wasn't until that afternoon did anybody ever ask how she felt about the death of Grandma Maria.

When asked, Azura could not find the courage to say that she was fine. She would simply walk away. It may have been the rudest action she had ever done, but Azura was in a state of mind for not caring. Her grandmother would have. The two were close like ketchup and mustard. Her Grandma Maria would have reprimanded her bad behavior, but then hug her for understanding the feeling behind it all. At this moment, all that her grandmother could do is leave behind a little black notebook on the dresser drawer.

No one had dared to open up that Moleskine, afraid of what secrets Grandma Maria dared to write in it. As the sweet old lady she was, Azura also remembered her as racist, judgemental, sly, snarky, and extremely funny. The absorbed, bleed-less pages could have contained anything: bank notes, diary experiences, pictures- it made Azura extremely anxious. Grandma Maria's belongings remained untouched until after the funeral and probate...

Azura's mother took time to shift through all of the belongings after six months. As painful as it was, Grandma Maria held no funds in her accounts which was strange for her extravagant tastes. The only thing written in the will was for Azura to keep the little black notebook close to her persons, and for her mother to cook the rest of the bag of rice left in the guest house. It was a strange request, but both family members had done so, although Azura still debated on reading the contents of the black notebook.

Her mother served her a bowl of rice with seaweed and kimchi (a personal family favorite dish). Azura took the rice by the spoonful and shoved a bite in her mouth. "Azura, have you opened the notebook your grandmother gave you?" Her mother started conversation. Azura couldn't reply just yet. The rice in her mouth was larger than expected with an unfurling texture. The taste was saltier... and dirtier than how her mother usually washed rice. Azura spat out the near-swallowed, chewed up wad of a ten dollar bill. Her eyes grew wide in astonishment.

Her mother couldn't believe her eyes as well, running to the pantry to shove a fist in the rest of the uncooked bag of rice. Out came carefully folded and rolled bills of fives, tens, twenties and hundreds. The bag was counted equaling $19,990. Adding the near-swallowed $10 totaled a whopping $20,000. Azura ran to her bedroom for an explanation only one source could supply. The little black notebook was never used, save a single page at the very back:

"To my surviving family whom I loved ever so dear,

I had meant to write my whole life in this notebook, but realized that I could not find the time in a day, nor in the remaining months in which I would have rather spent with you. Azura, I ran out of time but wanted to always remind you that I love you and your mother and will always watch over you hopefully from above. Your stepfather can go eat shorts if he doesn't take care of the both of you. I have no faith in the banking systems and have decided to leave whatever money I had after traveling the world in a bag of rice. I gave it to your mother for safe-keeping. Blame her if you can't find it. Don't spend it all at once.

I love you always and forever,

Grandmama."