Grandpa's Tuesday Voicemails
Mina's family had moved to a new city in September. Her old house was hundreds of miles away, and so was Grandpa.
Every Tuesday at four o'clock, Grandpa left her a voicemail. He never asked her to call back. He only told her small things. One week it was about a squirrel that stole his last tomato. Another week it was about a sock he found in the freezer.
Mina saved every message, but she never answered. She could not think of anything to say. Her new school was loud, and nothing about it seemed worth telling.
One Tuesday, Mina sat on the back steps and saw a pigeon with one white feather in its tail. It strutted along the fence as if it owned the whole street. Mina laughed out loud. Then she picked up the phone.
"Grandpa, it's me," she said. "I met a pigeon today. He walks like the mayor."
Grandpa laughed so hard that he coughed. "Tell me everything," he said.
Now Mina keeps a list in her pocket. When she sees something funny, she writes it down. By Tuesday, she always has plenty to say.