Sisterly Love

Sisterly Love

“You got a package for me?!”

My six year old brother stood wide-eyed, a shocked look on his little freckled face. He was such a pain in the you know what. He was always into my things, writing in my homework, telling mom and dad on me - even if I hadn’t done anything. One day he made me so mad, I felt like hitting him. Slamming the door, I left the house, just to get away quickly. When I got to the Village, I slowed my pace. Window shopping always calmed me down. Seeing the lamps, antique dolls, pretty clothes…….it all took me away to a world of fancy and wonder. A world that was only in books and movies. 

Then, when I saw it in the window of the toy store, I stared. It was the perfect birthday gift, but I was still a little bit mad. It was red, it was old and it really worked. The tires really rolled and if you pushed a little button the siren really wailed. If it had belonged to a little kid, that little kid couldn’t have played with it much. It looked absolutely brand new. I stepped into the antique store and asked the lady at the counter how much the red fire engine in the window cost. She told me the price. I really had to think about this. Spending all that money on the kid that just practically chased me out of my house.

~~~~~

“Excuse me, ma’am. Here is my bank card. Can you please tell me how much is in my account?’

“Well, hello, young lady. I certainly can. You have $150.00. You’ve been doing a lot of baby-sitting, or is it chores at home that you do? Whatever it is, you are certainly a good worker. Now, is there anything else, or did you just want to know your bank balance?”

“I would like to make a withdrawal please. $25.00.”

“That’s an awful lot of money for a young lady. Make sure you put it away and zip up your purse. You must have a lovely purchase in mind.”

“Yes ma’am. It’s my little brother’s birthday tomorrow and I’ve finally found the gift I want him to have. He’s real mean to me sometimes, but he is my little brother and I just know he’ll love what I have picked out for him.”

~~~~~

When I look back over the years to that day, I remember the hard cold bench that I sat on outside of the bank. I didn’t know if I could I buy Frankie even a lollipop for his birthday! At the time I knew that I could always turn around and put the money back. Frankie would have never known about the fire engine. I would still be keeping it a secret from him and from everyone else. When the bench got too hard and too cold, I made my decision. Frankie would get the fire engine.

“I always think loyalty’s such a tiresome virtue.”

~ Agatha Christie, Peril as End House

Author's Note: Edited February 05, 2024

Both Sides

Both Sides

I knew it. What am I going to do? I’ve been fired by other bosses before, but those were jobs I really didn’t care about. I worked so hard to get this position. It hasn’t been just a job, but a position in a part of health care that is close to my heart. There’ve been rumours for weeks about impending layoffs, cutting funding, cutting staff positions. I didn’t believe they would ever reach me. Because I knew…..I just knew…...I’ve been doing an awesome job! I can hear the boss stacking up her papers against me, putting them all in my file. I know she’s talking on the phone to my co-workers to find out all my mistakes. What is taking so long?! Our appointment was for 10 a.m. It’s 10:15. I must look a mess. I’ve been running my hair through my hands, my hands are sweaty, I’ve loosened my tie. Damn! My shoes are all scuffed.

“Mr. Hanson? You’ve been so quiet out here. Mrs. Carson will see you now. “

*****

I need to calm down. I’ll just sit quietly at my desk. Professional and calm. Wasn’t that the way I was taught to speak to my employees? There is already enough turmoil among the staff. Joe is such a good employee. He really cares about his job! How can I fire him? I’ve been through his personnel file. Not a mark on it. His only fault….and not really a fault…...is that he is the lowest man on the roster and I have to cut a position. One more casualty in balancing the budget. I’ll take a few more calls before I have my secretary call him in. No, that is only putting it off. This is my first firing and I am so nervous. Damn! I’m late starting his appointment. I told him 10 a.m.  It’s quarter after 10! All this self talk is giving me a bigger headache than I started my day with. Deep breath. Relax. You can do this.

“Please call Mr. Hanson in, Sylvia.”

“There are two possible endings to every story.”

~ Christie Watson, Tiny Sunbirds, Far Away

A Squirrel Tale

A Squirrel Tale

How do you like my profile?  I had this photo taken last summer when the grass was green and the sun was warm. Let me tell you all about me. I am not just an ordinary squirrel. Well, really I am an ordinary brown squirrel. But it’s where I live that makes me so very extraordinary. I have my own condo! That doesn’t mean I live in a condo. What it means is I have my very own condo building with thirty-two patios. Did you hear me? Thirty-two patios. Don’t you think that’s impressive? Well let me tell you about some of them. The ground floor ones are the easiest. I was on one tonight……(shh - don’t tell anyone)……..that had tulip bulbs, and daffodil bulbs and the juiciest succulents. So good. Lovely and cold. At this time of year, there’s really not much variety but when I run out on one patio, I go to the next. I try and get my groceries when no one is watching, but every now and then there’s a loud banging on the windows, or someone yells at me. Some humans are so rude! They’re just not into sharing! 

The second story ones are tricky. It’s easy to race up the trees, but I have to leap from the skinniest of branches onto the patios. Success is all in my balance, and of course, skill. But that is still not the hardest. If I get caught on one of those patios, I usually have to hide behind a pot or under a chair. Leaping back onto those skinny branches is death defying! But I’m getting pretty good at it. The crows can be pretty scary when they dive bomb me when I’m in mid flight. In summer, the leaves hide me, but this time of year..........! There's not many groceries there anyway. So, for the most part I stay on the ground, making my rounds from one patio to the next.  I’m looking forward to the new gardens the humans will be planting. I’d like to think that they plant them just for me - and my friends, the deer - but somehow I doubt it.  Like I said, they’re not really into sharing.

“The smaller the creature, the bolder its spirit.”

~ Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

The Power Outside

The Power Outside

The rain slashed across windows and through trees. I left my office, away from the disturbing change in the weather. My umbrella, and my raincoat, were in the car. On the far side of the parking lot. Checking my watch on the way to my boss's office, it was only 4:30 pm. I still had a half hour before stepping out into the sideways storm. Buried in my thoughts about getting the minutes done, the agenda set up for the next meeting and all the discussion about policies, procedures and all things bureaucartic, I didn’t check outside again. I would just get wet when it was home time - not a cheery thought to end my day. Back at my desk, tying up the day’s loose ends, my pencil slipped out of my hand. Bending to pick it up, I realized the room had brightened. Shadows played across the floor where shadows had been rained out 15 minutes before. Swiveling my chair around in surprise, the sun was streaming through a wide hole into the still swirling clouds and through my office window.  ‘Damn! There is no balance to this weather! Or the balance point is so fine that if my thoughts are buried too deep I miss this amazing power.

“Embrace the weather, child, and 

you’ll understand the balance of the world.”

~ Dean Koontz, Brother Odd

Cardboard Boxes

Cardboard Boxes

The garage sale had been a bust. It hadn’t seemd to matter though. Friends had gathered with ice tea and soda’s to visit and enjoy the hot summer’s day. Lila was just saying good bye to the last of her ‘volunteers’. She could hear them still chatting as they walked down the alley. The summer afternoon was still and quiet. She sure hadn’t made any money, but would cherish this day. Lila was moving out of her small neighbourhood. She was taking a leap of faith that this move would be the right one. There had been so much happen in the intervening years. Putting away her grandmother’s jewelry box, and her grandfather’s toolbox; her dad’s pocket watch and her mother’s table cloths, her memories gently exposed themselves. Lila’s life had not been completely gentle though. “Your life is as interesting as watching the grass grow.” One of her friends had made that comment to her, comparing her own life to Lila’s life. Closing the lids on the cardboard boxes was like closing lids on the parts of her life that she had never shared with her friends. All her family secrets were behind cardboard. Cardboard that would protect them all - as long as they weren’t jostled too hard, or damaged in any way. Planning this move, organizing the several garage sales had been hard work. But not as hard as the work Lila had done to get her life back in balance. Now when she looked at family things she could see the happy family that once was.  Those were the things that she kept. The ones that she gave away were the ones that needed a new home. New homes to be imbued with happier memories. The sun was almost gone. Lila pulled the garage door shut on all that remained from the garage sale.

“Memory is a complicated thing, a relative to truth, but not its twin.”

~ Barbara Kingsolver

Lost in Thought

Lost in Thought

Lost in thought, I was sitting, on this first day of spring, at the feet of the cenotaph on the grounds of the parliament buildings. In the warm sun, with daffoldils blooming I was thinking of my grandfather. My grandfather insisted on braving any weather, just as he had every November even after his stroke, to get to the cenotaph. Saluting smartly, the weight of the years would fall away. He did not see the brass and granite, nor hear the call of the winter birds. He saw himself standing at the ready, knee deep in mud. The weight he carried on that long ago day was a rain drenched woollen coat, heavy rifle and ammunition. That sky was gray painted with bright orange bursts of machine gun fire. With each final 21 gun salute he came back to where he stood and he was once more aging flesh and blood. The weight of his many years settled on him once more even as he felt the soldiers battle dress that he thought had gone. Grandfather told me all these things and more.

Then he told me that the battle had new weapons and new ammunition now. Weapons and ammunition foreign to the old soldier. Grandfather didn’t understand them and really didn’t want to. What he knew was that the fight was the same, no matter the ammunition, no matter the weapons. It was always about territory and power. Who holds the gold. Always with the belief that who holds that gold makes the rules. Whether new rules are ethical or moral no one ever knew til after battle was done. Then he would shake his grizzled head slowly and sadly.

On those days, the old soldier sat back down in his wheelchair. In that wheelchair, no matter how comfortable and safe, he was in the hands of the person that pushed it. He was at the mercy of his caretakers, nurses and doctors. Much of his personal power was taken from him by infirmity. Most of the time he was willing to accept this balance of power. Fortunately, his family and his caregivers were all pretty good folks and he appreciated their respect and care. 

My grandfathers life and service would be forgotten by many, but not by this proud grandson.

“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you 

want to test a man’s character, give him power.”

~ Abraham Lincoln

Finding Home

Finding Home

“There is nothing left to say!” Ryan flung down his pen and it bounced across the room.

“Why are you so angry, Ryan? I’ve just walked in the door. The house is a mess, dishes all in sink and the cat is yowling like you haven’t fed her all day. What is going on?” Sandy had had a long day at work, confident that when she got home it would be quiet and Ryan would make her a cup of tea. She had dreamt of the secure balance of home for the last two hours. She plunked herself down in the big green chair in the living room, dropped her purse on the floor and put her feet up on the coffee table. She never let anyone else put feet on the coffee table, but today she was too tired to care.

“Oh, honey, I’m just so frustrated. I’ve been working on this stupid novel all day and all I’ve got is a stack of papers and thousands of words. I have to have this manuscript to the editor by the end of the week. None of it is any good!  How can I send in something that doesn’t even make sense to me!” Ryan quickly scooped up all his papers, stacking them in no particular order at all, just clearing off the table. “Do you want some tea? Cat. - hush up. I’ll feed you but let me get the kettle on first. Tea, honey? Here let me take your coat.”

Sandy was almost asleep. She could hear Ryan saying something and shuffling papers, but just wanted to drift off. She felt her coat being taken from her. Ryan took her shoes off and covered her with a blanket, tucked a pillow under her head. Sandy could hear dishes being put in the sink. The cat was finally quiet except for the crunching of her kibble. The tea kettle whistled, then the aroma of mint tea and clink of a cup on the side table. Sandy smiled and snuggled under the blanket. The last she heard before slipping off into sleep was the clicking of the computer keys.

“Love is that condition in which the happiness

 of another person is essential to your own.”

~ Robert A.Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land

Drifting

Drifting. Like the few clouds in the sky. Thoughts frayed and incomplete yet beautiful. Hills were just springing into life, tinged light green. The lane I walked, lined with drying winter ruts, would be dusty and soft in summer sun. There would be time for that later. Today, I felt the silence that shrugged around my shoulders and was glad. Glad that there were buds on the trees, new grass peering carefully above the ground, even glad that weeds were boldly showing life again. Robins searching the still moist ground for worms my only companion. My shadow grew long. Breathing deeply of the late spring sun, I gathered peace and balance within me for my return home.

“The soul becomes dyed with the colour of its thoughts.”

~ Marcus Aurelius, Meditations