A retrospective

I am sitting in the garden with my granddaughter. She has light hair that reaches to her waist. Floral summer dress. Red nail polish on tiny toenails. The sun is not yet in the middle of the sky. The day is open. I have to tell her about the operation, that they had to remove the left breast, and I can't go in the swimming pool, not yet.

We had agreed that I would teach her to swim. The first swimming lesson was supposed to be today.

 Now we are going to read about Pippi Longstocking and I want to finish this talk.

You know that amma has been to the hospital, I say. She calls me amma, the Icelandic word for grandmother. Hm, she says, and look at the picture in the book, it is Pippi with the monkey Mr. Nilsson on her shoulder.

 At the hospital they had to remove my left breast, I tell her.

Just like great-grandfather, she says, turning the pages of the book.

But he didn't remove...I say, but she interrupts and continues, great-grandfather lost his leg. They had to cut it off, in the hospital, and you know what amma, he'll never get the leg back.

 Yes, just like great-grandfather can't get his leg back, I can't get my breast back, I answer her. Oh, it doesn't matter, my granddaughter says, sits closer to me, and asks: Shall we read now?

We will.

 My other granddaughter comes running, also in a light summer dress, she crawls onto the sofa. Why are you wearing shoes, asks the older sister. It's way too hot with shoes today. She doesn't answer. I see pink half socks with a lace border. She got them yesterday as a present. She also wants to hear about the strongest girl in the world, Pippi, who can lift the horse over her head.

When we have finished reading I close the book and think that the three of us can probably also lift a horse over our heads, should it prove necessary.