Contact Paper Fan

          Jan Chozen Bays says the mind "fritters away its energy" dwelling in the past or—even worse—in future worry or fantasy.
          It's true, all that pain is like biting the fingernails too deeply, or smoking too many cigarettes too fast.
          But on this warm October morning, I think of my Aunt Ada, 85, sitting in her rocker and fanning herself with a giant, homemade cardboard fan covered in thick contact paper printed to look like stained glass. Heavy as a frying pan, she waved it in front of her face and gave little pushes with her nylon-stockinged feet against the floor. The delicate smile behind her eyeglasses—twinkling, conspiratorial—was timeless.
          Any moment she would slice up a peach, or write a letter.
          The memory of it enriches me, still.