Sherry

.... on Living and Loving
2003-10-22 21:36:45 (UTC)

Gone

I was 8 yrs. old. She was old. How old? I’d have to count
and I don’t feel like it at the moment.
I guess she was in her late 60's.
I use to spend the night at her house to get away from all
the ruckus at mine.
She’d wake early on Saturday morning and start the dishes.
( usually before dawn) and start the
coffee brewing in one of those perk-a-lators. The kind that
would go drip... drip... drip. I think it
plugged into the wall. I’m not sure. But the smell of
coffee and the clanging of dishes would fill
the air ... and I always... ALWAYS woke to that at Grandmas
house.
She’d fix me ‘egg toast’ and then I would watch her fill
the bathroom sink with warm water
before she’d wash her face and put on her rouge and lip
stick. I remember wanting to be a grown
up so that I could do that too. I wanted to wear the rouge
and
lipstick and I wanted to use the Secret
deodorant and perfume. Grandma always smelled so good.. And
I wanted to smell like her. If I
was lucky she would let me rummage thru her bathroom
cabinet looking for nail polish that
probably use to be my Great Grandmother and was so thick I
could hardly spread it across my
little fingernails. If I was lucky.
After she’d done her morning routine and my belly was full
and her face was clean and made up
we’d begin our walk ‘up-town’. She was the only one that
would call it ‘Up-town’. To most of
the world it was ‘down town’... but to her... and to me..
It was ‘up town’.
It wasn’t too far... not really. I would sometimes get
tired of walking ... but we’d always stop
when we got to the train depot. It was no longer used...
and I would walk around the building ...
looking in the windows .. Wondering what it must have been
like when it was open and there
were people all around... some not from around here... and
some just passing thru. Then we
would head over to Kreske’s.... to the basement.. Where all
the cool stuff was... like the toys and
the candy. I loved that store. I always left with
something. ALWAYS.

Now, I’m grown up. I can wear the rouge and Secret
deodorant and I can fix my own egg toast
and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
March of 2001 I stood in the my Grandmas bathroom, opened
the medicine cabinet and it was
still there. The rouge.. The deodorant... my childhood. I
closed it.. And I stood there starring in
the mirror wishing I was that little girl looking for the
gooey nail polish in the cabinet where she
kept the towels. But I wasn’t. I was older... she was
older... and I was now taking care of her.
How things change. Where did my dependance go... and when
did she loose her independence.
I realized that day.... as she sat in her chair... the
one that she had ever sense I was born... and
she started to cry... her eyes shut... “ I want to go home”
she said.... “ I just want to go home”
I asked her to open her eyes.. So that she could see she
was home.... the place she had lived for
the past 26 yrs... but she didn’t open her eyes..she just
kept sobbing and the tears kept falling...
and she kept repeating “ I want to go home”. I sat in the
chair across from her... I was crying..
But she couldn’t see.... she didn’t open her eyes.... and I
can recall saying... in a low voice... “ I
know, Grandma... I want to go home too”. But at the moment
neither of us could go home...whereever home was to the
each of us. We were there... THERE...
together.. In that place... and it was, for some reason,
home to neither of us.
I looked at this woman sitting across from me.. And I
realized
that she may have Eleanor’s face...and
she may have Eleanor’s hands, and Eleanor may be in there
somewhere behind those brown eyes
that refused to open... but the odds were I wouldn't get
her back
again.
It was at that moment I knew that my grandma wasn’t just
gone to work, folding sheet after scolding hot sheet... she
wasn’t just walking 'up town'.. She wasn’t busy making my
egg toast...
she was gone ‘gone’.
I wanted her to come home ... I wanted her to fix herself
up so that we could take OUR walk ‘up town’ I wanted her to
scold me for wearing too much lip stick when I tried on her
make up.
I wanted her to make the dishes clang and the coffee drip
and my life filled with love again.
I wanted her to be ‘home’

To be continued...






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