…All Day Long You Will Have Good Luck

       Even the summers were undeniably hot at night, but eerily cold. Not like the cold that meant we had to wear jackets, but the cold that put enough weight on the environment that it could drive one to suspicion. The abandoned alleyway reeked of moldy lunches and urine. The lights were strung low and flickered. It was the only life around. With every blind step, my ankle would give in to the cracked and poorly aligned cobblestone. The silhouettes would shake and ominously glow and transform into creatures of the night; I tried to look away but my eyes were encapsulated in its hypnotic flashes and thus the feeling of my throat closing and the shadow lurking over me only got worse. My hands clammed up and sweat trickled down my spine. My feet grew heavy and I began to consciously, manually breathe. 
       One… two… three. Exhale. 
       My eyes darted back and forward and back and forward, everything became a blur. The walls of the obsolete buildings seemed to close in. They started off slow and then quickened their pace. Moving inch by inch, until I was sandwiched between them, I could not breathe. I shut my eyes as tight as I could, clenched my fist to the point of nail marks and exhaustion, and accepted my reality. The monsters had me in their suffocating chokehold. This was it. 
       But when I opened my eyes, it was all back to normal. The walls went back, the shadows were just geometric shapes again, and my once aching heart settled. My tense muscles felt free again, as if someone unchained me, I was alleviated from the pain. A warm, recognizable touch gripped my forearm. All the worries flushed out of my system. A reset from the world that gulfed me. An anchor bringing me back down to earth. Yet, I felt so light I could fly. I felt safe. I felt relieved. I felt reassured. The black ink that was the night sky seemed to brighten, the broken lights seemed to be hung perfectly, and the ground sparkled with every step one took. This simple touch opened my eyes to a magical wonderland. 
       My grandma always knew how to keep me from going overboard. She is my rock, my world, my everything. In an act to keep me distracted, we held an embrace and strolled along the road making childish bets with each other. After owing her the creamiest mango ice cream, a cherry lollipop, and a walk in the heart of Spain-- I finally won a bet. All I wanted was a token that represented her. She knew exactly what to give me and pulled out her coin purse with a jolt. She handed me a 2002 plated two euro coin and smiled from ear to ear lifting her eyebrows in excitement. I stared at her and begged for an explanation; nonetheless, I took the coin without any hesitation. 
       The coin was rusted over and a couple dents were in it. A secret history that only it knew, but I had to uncover it. A simple coin basically worth nothing that was probably tossed around, forgotten, or fallen out of someone's hand when making a purchase. My grandma stopped in her tracks right under the light that was glowing the brightest and held my hands tightly. She told me that through everything that it could have experienced, it ended up here, with us. Her one wish was for me to imagine myself as the coin-- small, with a few scratches here and there, but sturdy. The foggy reflection stared back at me grimly. 
       Her warm heart filled my sore one. The rest of the world felt loving. Peaceful. Hopeful. In her arms... I could close my eyes and walk through the darkness with my chin pointing up. I was the coin. 

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