Whenever I visit my grandfather in Louisiana, a naïve glimmer of hope in me expects to see my grandmother, who died when I was 14. She died before I transitioned, unaware that her only grandchild was really her granddaughter. She collected Japanese beckoning cats. I found one recently and put it snug among the others on my grandparents’ mantelpiece. They’ll beckon her forever. Yet, my grandmother often comes to me in dreams, vest-clad and laughing like she was in life. In a recent dream, she called me by my name: Vitoria. I woke, crying, believing that she sees me. — Vitoria Perez
