Everything in life happens for the first time at some point. The first teacher, the first love, the first date, the first kiss. But Emily would forever remember her first prayer. That feeling stayed with her all her lifea sacred love for her grandmother Edith and her first words to God.
Emily was retired now, living alone. Her daughter had married long ago and lived with her own family in a nearby city. Emily had spent her whole life in the villagemarried here, buried her husband eight years ago, and now sometimes visited the church to pray for her loved ones and light candles.
As she prepared for church, Emily suddenly remembered her childhood and that first prayer. She didnt remember her parentsthey had died in a motorbike accident on their way back from town when she was three. Her grandmother Edith had raised her.
One autumn, when the leaves had already turned gold and a fine rain misted the air, Emily fell ill.
«Mustve caught a chill,» her grandmother said, tucking the blankets around her. «I tell you, wear a hat when its damp. Wind gets to your head, and there you are. Autumn.»
Edith didnt take her to the hospital but treated her as she knew best. The first night, Emily ran a high fever, slipping in and out of strange, fleeting dreams. She was eight years old.
In the morning, her grandmother checked her temperature.
«Thank the Lord, its come down. Emily, love, what do you fancy?»
«Tea,» Emily murmured, licking her dry lips before closing her eyes again.
«Right you are, my darling. Ill mash some elderberries, stir in honeybest thing for you when youre poorly. Chases the sickness right out.»
Emily knew this remedy well. After drinking the tea, she scraped the bittersweet pulp from the bottom of the mug. She liked it. When Edith wasnt busy, she sat beside her, knitting socks, humming old hymns, or telling stories from her own childhood. And every evening, she prayedsometimes in the afternoon tooasking God to make Emily well again.
One evening, as Emily watched her grandmother kneel before the icons in the corner, the small oil lamp flickering, a thought burned through her like boiling water.
*What if Grandma dies? Id be all alone.*
The idea had never crossed her mind before. Now it terrified her.
Emily pictured her grandmother lying in a coffin. Shed seen old Mrs. Clarke from next door buried just that autumn. Shed gone with Edith to «pay respects»thats what her grandmother called it. The memory twisted inside her.
Afraid of being left alone, Emily started to cry. Edith came over and stroked her hair.
«Whats the matter, love? Why the tears?»
«Granny you wont die, will you?»
Edith hesitated. «Oh, I will, one day. Everyone does. Thats the way of things.»
«But not soon?»
«Whenever the Lord wills it. Why dyou ask?»
«I dont know Why do people die?»
«Well now Thats not for us to know, love.» Edith paused. «We live as we ought, and when our time comes, we go peacefully. Thats all there is to it.»
«So God decides?»
«Aye, He does.»
«Can He make someone live a long time?»
«He can do anything,» Edith said, crossing herself before leaving the room.
A thought sparked in Emilys mind.
*What does Granny pray for? Probably asks God to let her live long. Thats it. I should pray for her too. Ask God to keep her alive foreveror at least a very long time. She says childrens prayers are heard quicker. But how do I do it without anyone seeing?*
The next day, Edith went to church.
Emily waited until she was sure her grandmother had turned the corner toward the chapel. She drew the curtains tight so no one could peek in.
On the little shelf stood a few icons. Emily only knew Saint Nicholas and the Virgin MaryEdith had told her stories about them. She stood before them, uncertain. The house was hushed. She settled on Saint Nicholas.
*I dont know any prayers.*
The saints painted eyes watched her, making her fidget.
*I want to ask for Granny to live long, but how? How do you talk to a saint?*
She stared at the icons until an idea came.
*If I just ask, theyll hear me. They know Im little. Theyll understand. But I should learn a proper prayer too.*
She looked at Saint Nicholas and whispered:
«Please make my grandmother Edith never die no, wait. I mean, let her live a long, long time. Her legs hurt, and her heartwhat if she goes soon? Shes old, and Im scared to be alone. Make her strong. I love her so much, so please help. Shes good and prays all the timeshes at church right now.»
The words tumbled out. Her chest ached with how much she wanted Saint Nicholas to listen. Afterward, she lay down, waiting for Edith to return. When the door finally opened, her grandmother handed her a chocolate bar.
«Howre you feeling, my sweet?»
«Fine, Granny. Can you teach me how to pray to Saint Nicholas?»
«Same as to any saint Why dyou ask?»
«Is there a special prayer?»
«Oh, aye, there is. More than one. Ill show you tonight.»
Edith went to stoke the kitchen stove, thoughtful.
*Whats got into my Emily? Asking about prayers Strange. But its right, I suppose. Best teach her one.*
That evening, as Edith prayed before bed, Emily watched, copying some words under her breath. When her grandmother sat beside her, Emily asked:
«Granny, if I ask Saint Nicholas for something, does he tell God?»
Edith smiled, smoothing her hair. «In a manner of speaking. He prays for us, so we stay safe and well.»
Emily fell asleep at once, dreaming of a tall, silver-haired old man with a long white beard, a cross on his chest, and an open book in his hands. He smiled at her, warm and kind.
She woke the next morning, perfectly well, her heart light.
*They heard me. Granny will live a long, long time.*
Edith came in, smiling.
«How are you, love?» She pressed a palm to Emilys forehead. «No fever, but lets check.» She handed her the thermometer.
«Granny, Im finereally! Im not poorly anymore.»
«Good. I saw young Tom running to schoolasked after you. Said hed stop by after lessons. Time you caught up too. Its Fridayweekends nearly here, then back to class.»
Emily grinned, passing back the thermometer. «I want to go! I miss school.»
Edith lived to be eighty-eight. Emily had married, had a daughter of her own, by the time her grandmother fell ill at last. She cared for her with the same tenderness Edith had once shown her, but the day camejust as Edith had said it wouldand she passed quietly in the night.
Emily didnt go to church often, but today she wouldto remember her parents and dear Edith, whose birthday it was. She never forgot the date. And she never stopped loving her.
