Patricia Riddle Gaddis

Earlier that same day, I’d read in the newspaper that Hillary Clinton would be running for president, and I remembered how my grandmother was such an advocate for women’s rights. As I was thinking about these things, I noticed a woman gazing out of the lobby doors, as if waiting for someone. She hadn’t been there when I sat down in the darkened lobby, but then I shrugged it off. After all, I had been deep in thought and looking out the window for the rain to subside.

Her hair was snow white, in a neat coil at the nape of her neck, and she stood very straight, with her shoulders back. I almost gasped aloud as she turned around and looked at me. She bore a shockingly striking resemblance to my grandmother. She walked over and took a seat directly across from me.

The subtle scent of roses filled the air and I immediately noticed her sparkling wire-framed glasses. They were very similar to the ones my grandmother wore. I had always loved my grandmother’s glasses!

Although she wore this particular style of frames long before Harry Potter was created, a child I suspected that her sparkling specs might have carried a bit of magic. Once, when I hinted at this possibility, she just laughed.

She told me that someday I could have her glasses, and if there was any magic left in them, I could use it as I saw fit. When my grandmother passed away, I wanted her glasses as a keepsake but, in the whirlwind settlement of her estate, they were misplaced.