"Don't be like your grandma Georgina," Mom would hiss and slap me with a teen mag I forgot to bring for her inspection. She couldn't afford a new pair of shoes or repair our leaky fridge, yet the two of us had a deal: pocket money for me in return for some control over my interests. So I didn't mind her going through my mags and tearing away those ridiculous horoscopes (Aries are in love, Tauruses are heartbroken) – it all seemed nonsense anyway. I couldn't understand what was there for her, and she never explained. I also couldn't get why she always had to bring grandma Georgina up, whom I hadn't seen since I was four or five. And then my grandma died, and I only found out when my aunt Ana showed up on the porch with a giant cardboard box. As soon as Mom opened it, she started yelling at Ana, – I thought you were on my side, didn't I make this clear, how can you do this to me after everything we've been through. When they eventually migrated to the kitchen, screaming, crying and shattering glass, I sneaked into the living room and peeked inside the box. Back then, I imagined that when an older person died, they left behind a pile of useless memorabilia, like ceramic dog statuettes and rusty badges. But books and notes? I sat on the floor beside the box and started taking them one by one. At first, I laughed at titles like "Astrology for Dummies" and "Beginner's Guide to Stars". Then I pulled out "Romantic love in your natal chart". Okay, I thought, this couldn't be serious. I flipped through it, my gaze freezing on every pencil underline. I quickly learned that "quincunxes" were trouble and that the "Death" lived in the "Eight House". Two yellowed natal charts were inserted right in the middle of the book, and a photo – of Grandma Georgina and Granddad Jacob, who passed ten years earlier. I gulped and reached for the next book, "Healing the Soul: Pluto, Uranus and the Lunar Nodes". Then it was no longer for the healing of the soul but the body: "Medical Astrology", now filled with notes on cardiac ischemia and osteoporosis, with the whole section of cancer disease being highlighted in fluorescent yellow. Then followed the "Second House: Your Material Possessions", where I found my grandma's mortgage billing statements long past due, inserted as bookmarks right between the pages. The kitchen door burst open, and my mother stormed in, screaming, "Look what you have done!" at Ana and wresting the books out of my hands. When Ana finally left that day, Mom went into the backyard and made a big fire, throwing all grandma Georginas' books into it without looking. And I just sat there, crying.