In the comfort of his daily routines, he found the subterfuge to avoid thinking…
“During the trip, I had the opportunity to observe the early, morning, before-breakfast rituals… it is no wonder that my grandmother scarcely talked! What can you say to a person like that?”
“John Henry, my dearest Alice, inherited a collection of remarkably rare and valuable coins when his father passed away. Three hundred and forty-three antique coins to be more precise. In the afternoons after tea, he would wash his hands as if he were a surgeon preparing for the operating room. Once his hands were immaculate and faultlessly clean, then grandfather would take the coins out, one by one.”
“Immediately after, he would clean each one, scrupulously and meticulously, and then, he would immediately put them away, each of them carefully placed each in a separate, little felt bag until the next afternoon. Now I ask you, how could they possibly need daily cleaning if he didn’t allow them to be handled at any other time or by any other person?”
“Meanwhile, in that rarely broken silence in the room, the soft beating of grandmother’s knitting needles was faintly heard, occasionally interrupted by grandfather’s knee-jerking grunts and vibrant groans. When he died, how many coins do you guess my father inherited?”
He continued abruptly, not allowing her to answer, his eyes shining with excitement. “I´ll provide you with a clue that will help you decipher this enigmatic question. Less than half were one-of-a-kind. All the other coins were not unique, you see?
© All photos by edudelcorral