Kofi sat by his window and looked at the faded photo. He traced his grandmother's face with his finger.
"I have to tell her," he whispered. He pushed the photo aside and picked up a fresh sheet of paper.
He pressed the yellow crayon hard. The first word came out thick and blobby. He crumpled the paper into a ball.
He tried again. This time the letters were too tiny. He groaned and stomped his foot. Two crumpled balls bounced across the floor.
On the third try, he drew a big smiling sun above his words. He folded the paper into an envelope. "Almost there," he thought.
He pressed the red wax stamp onto the corner. But it wiggled loose and rolled under the table. "No, no!" he whispered, diving after it.
In grandmother's kitchen, she opened the envelope. She unfolded the paper and saw the big smiling sun. She smiled.
She picked up a pencil and scribbled a reply. "I miss you too, my dear. Let's plan our visit!" She sealed the envelope with a flourish.
Kofi waited by the window. He watched the road. He pressed his nose against the cool glass.
A yellow envelope bounced into his mailbox. He ran to the door and tore it open.
He hugged the paper to his chest. "Soon," he whispered. The sun painted the plain walls gold.
He thought about the smiling sun, and the reply, and the visit. He held the paper close and dreamed.
