Then it hit me. A few weeks earlier, my grandmother had stayed with me for a weekend. She’s always been quietly spiritual — the kind of woman who leaves prayers folded inside drawers and murmurs blessings when she waters her plants.
That evening, I called her.
“Grandma,” I said, half amused, half curious. “Did you put something under my mattress?”
There was a pause — then her soft, familiar chuckle.
“Ah, you found it already? Yes, sweetheart. It’s kalonji. You’ve been sounding restless lately. I thought a little protection might help you sleep easier.”
A Quiet BlessingContinue reading…
