Cadence Casey
High School Junior
August/September 2024
Brisk winter air consumed the night. My grandma, GG, recently arrived for the holidays. My sister and I had already brushed our teeth, changed into pajamas, and currently lay in bed--except she was the only one trying to sleep. Every night during my grandma’s visit, she and I secretly escaped to either the closet or the hallway to read. Late night reading provided us with special time together. As the world nestled into sleep, my mind awoke ready to read. Just as my grandma pulled the blanket over my sister, I jumped out of bed and onto the floor, tiptoeing over the plastic toys and Barbies scattered around. I quietly but efficiently made my way out of the room and down the hallway where the upstairs lounge was. I scanned the room, and my eyes fell onto the deep blue leather couch that shone in the warm ambient glow of the light. I ran over to the couch and did a small jump onto it sinking into the plush leather. Then the door clicked shut, and I heard GG’s footsteps follow behind. As she entered the room, I studied her. Her whole being was soft, from how she walked in her black trousers to the grace she held as she spoke. She slowly, but purposefully walked to the couch and sat next to me.
“Now are you reading tonight, or am I?” she asked gently.
Tugging at my pink striped pajamas I hesitantly asked, “Can I please?”
“Well of course,” she laughed, her voice warm and full.
I opened the fine paper book, the pages coarse on my fingertips like sandpaper; I began to search for the folded corner I used to hold my page. Even though GG and my library teacher always said that folding corners damaged the book, my stubbornness led me to feel that my way of doing certain things was the only way, and for myself that was applicable to a multitude of situations.
Finally looking at the page, I began to read, “Kristy turned to Rachel-”
“Kirsty, not Kristy, it’s Kirsty, Cur-stee,” she corrected me, sounding it out as she placed her finger on the word.
“Oh, well Mom and I call her Kristy, so can we please call her that?”
“No you silly. How we pronounce things is important,” she reminded me playfully.
“Okay…” I tried again, “Kris-”
“Ah!” She said quickly, capturing my mistake.
“Krus- UGH!” I sat there in the tension before letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. The silence embraced the room.
“GG I can’t do this,” I said, tensing every muscle in my legs.
“Yes, you can,” she encouraged me kindly.
Begging in response I whined,“Please, GG, can you read the first bit to me?”
“No Cadence, I know you can do this. You are smart and capable,”
“But I can’t. This is stressing me out!” I yelled, throwing the book down.
Instead of lashing out at me or telling me to go to bed she simply looked at me and grabbed my hand. Her touch was cold, but somehow felt the warmest.
“Cadence, you’re thinking very negatively right now. Do you know what that means?” she asked.
“No…” I answered, feeling slightly ashamed.
She scooted closer to me, her almond perfume wafting through the air with each movement, “It means you're expecting the worst, and that negative thinking causes stress,” she said, meeting my eyes. “When you say, ‘I can't,’ you're already limiting yourself. So, how do you think you can rephrase it?”
I thought about this for a moment, rubbing my toes against the carpet, causing a tingling sensation; most of her words floating straight over my head.
“I’ve got it! I’ll just say ‘I can’t yet.’”
She shook her head, “Not quite. What are you still saying?”
I paused, unsure of the answer to her question.
She broke the silence, “Can’t. You said can’t. Even though you tried adding in the yet, you’re still limiting yourself. Your brain will focus on the negative.”
“Well, then what am I supposed to say?” I argued in retaliation.
“That’s a good question. How about either ‘I will’ or ‘I think I can’?”
The tears started to well in my eyes, blurring my vision. With my voice breaking and myself defeated I said, “But I can’t-”
“What did The Little Engine That Could say when she was doing something difficult?” she asked, wiping a salty tear off my face.
“I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.” I said as I recalled the little blue train struggling to get up the hill. It was a book that I'd read over 1,000 times and knew solemnly by heart.
“Yes,” she nodded, “And you soon will too.”
I looked down at the book again, suddenly feeling different. “I will,” I whispered, meaning it more to myself than to her.
Then with a deep breath, I began again. “Kirsty turned to Rachel…”
That conversation lingered in my mind for years, shaping not only the reader and writer I became, but the person I am today. Life is challenging, no matter who you are. You will make mistakes, you will fail, and you will endure hardships, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be successful and live a life full of joy. Before, when I read, it had to be on my own terms, or I wouldn’t read at all. But that warm night that smelled of pine, wrapped in my fuzzy pajamas, I learned the power of flexibility from my Grandma. She showed me that adaptability could open doors I had never considered. I began to pick up books I’d never had touched before–The Book Thief, with its haunting prose, The Crucible, with its raw intensity, and even The 48 Laws of Power, a controversial read which challenged my thinking. This really demonstrates how that one tattered book, and one confusing name led to so much more.
GG’s words taught me that I can read and write about anything, no matter how rigorous it may seem. Little did I know, that conversation would impact my relationship with reading and my mindset when facing challenges, because when I think I can–I know I can, and when I know I can–I will.
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