Grandpa Adroushan took his gardening shears out of his overalls and cut the stem and cap off the fruit, and said, “anyone up for a friendly game of pomeball?”
Armen hurried off to fetch the baseball bat.
The Adoration of the Magi — Leonaert Bramer, ca. 1634.
Armen thought about what his grandfather had said about Armenians having once been something his grandfather called “Magians.” Grandpa-A tossed him the pomegranate and he foul-tipped the fruit-ball down at the ground.
Armen let out a question. “Grandpa, was our family Magian before they were Christian?”
Grandpa-A replied that he didn’t know for sure and he reminded Armen that Armenians have been Christian for a very long time, and tossed the next pitch.
Armen missed it completely. Strike two. Cindy waited at Grandpa-A’s side, hoping to field anything that Armen might manage to hit. She turned to Grandpa-A and asked, “what’s a Magian?”
Her grandfather answered that he didn’t really know, except for what he’d said about prophecy and astronomy, and also that they kept fire temples—that they had a high regard for fire, just as Armenians still do.
Armen hit the pitch, cracked the game ball open. “You get the next one, Cindy,” promised Grandpa-A, and they sat together in the shade of an apricot tree, picking the red arils out of their respective shards.