Grandpa’s Radio

Kim was at her grandfather’s house, helping him to clear out the attic. The air was thick with dust, and she coughed as she lifted the lid of a cardboard box full of forgotten things. At the very bottom, wrapped in a faded blanket, lay a small blue radio. It was heavier than it looked, and its dial had stopped at a station that no longer existed.

“Grandpa, what is this?” Kim called, holding it up to the light from the little window. “Ah, that’s my old radio,” he said from the doorway. “I believe it’s been broken for years.” He smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes, and Kim sensed that it was better not to ask any more.

That night she carried the radio to her room, wiped off the dust and plugged it in. To her surprise, there was an old tape inside. She pressed the large button; a song began to play, and then a man’s voice, warm and a little unsteady, said, “Hello, Anna. Today you are five years old.” Downstairs, a door closed softly, and she realised that she was holding her breath.

Kim hurried downstairs with the radio in her arms. “Grandpa! Who is Anna?” He looked at her for a long moment before answering. “That’s your mother,” he said. “And that is my voice. I recorded that tape for her on her birthday, a very long time ago.” His eyes were wet.

They sat together and listened to the whole tape, which lasted ten minutes. When it finally ended, Grandpa cleared his throat. “Tomorrow,” he said, “we could make a tape for you.” Kim smiled. “Yes, please,” she said. “I have a great deal to say.” Outside, the evening light had turned the colour of old paper.