In his Author's Note, Kevin Maillard — a contributor to the New York Times and a professor of law at Syracuse University with Seminole roots — explains the phrase that many Native people use instead of "passed" or "died": "Walk on" is "an active, ongoing transition of a person from body to spirit. ... The enduring influence of loved ones doesn't stop at the cemetery gates, and we continue hear them in our minds, see them in the faces of others, and feel their presence when we least expect it."
In this story, a young boy tries to understand what it means that his beloved Grandma has walked on. As he wonders where she went, we're introduced to particular everyday beauties they shared, as he considers that perhaps she went "to the market to thump green melons" or maybe she's "in the garden ... turning saplings into giant sequoias." Most poignant of all, for anyone who has lost a loved one and knows the aches of unfulfilled expectancy, is this:
"Maybe they're just running late
and they will call me
from their special place."
A pivot point comes when the boy smells the aroma of eucalyptus tea and grape dumplings wafting from the kitchen and finds through "the magic of food" a way to experience his Grandma in the present. Rafael López's illustration shows his Grandma swinging him through the air, her colorful apron swaying with them, their smiles joyous, their joined hands showing their unbroken connection. The focus then shifts from the past to the present and future, with lines like:
"When they walk on,
they stay with us
like the glimmer of a distant star."
López blends Mexican and Seminole influences into designs like Grandma's tattoos and the patterns of her scarf. In his Note from the Illustrator, he explains his vivid colors convey "a vital element of identity, tradition, and expression that reflects the vibrancy and vitality of my heritage." They also reinforce the overall feeling that Kevin Maillard's words bring us: of abundant life and of walking on as continuation. This trustworthy wisdom can encourage not only four-to-eight-year-old readers, but all of us.
