On an Afternoon Walk - Time Travel

A sweet face not to be missed! 

Even tucked away from the heat. 

Backed by another favourite, 

beautiful orange snap dragons ~

Grandma and Grandpa’s garden.

There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colours 

are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again.”  

~ Elizabeth Lawrence

Weighted

Grandpa and Grandma in front of their house.

Like a woollen shawl on a cool day, the weight of generations warms me.

Delicious memories of maple cookies, fanciful stories, Bible readings and cinnamon scents of sweet peas.

In my child’s mind,

it was a softer, gentler time.

“Their manners are more gentle, kind,

 than of our generation you shall find.”

~ William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Chapter Two, Episode Ten - Ben’s Story - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update My goodness! Only an extra space to remove. No typo's. No sentence structure change.  I could have just not even done a review, but I liked Ben's determination. (and I liked the story)

Ben's Story

“Bringing home the joy was something my grandma always did for me when I was little.” Ben Richardson was all of ten years old. Often going up to the Beaufort kitchen, he had heard Cook and his grandma talking about all the ‘stories’ everyone had written. He decided that he would write his story. After all he lived here too, and he had talked to the Storyteller before too. His mother would just think he was being silly, so he went to his room to write. He closed his door and hung up his Do Not Disturb sign so his little sister, Abby - or his mother - wouldn’t come in.

 “That’s what my grandma called her surprises: ‘bringing home the joy’. That’s not what I would’ve called it. It sounds pretty corny.  It was really a surprise and not very often a big surprise. I asked her one time what ‘bringing home the joy’ meant and how did she know which joy to bring.” My grandma, her name is Mrs. Haverstock-Digby now, doesn’t live beside us any more. She got married to the Beaufort butler, Mr. Digby. They live in a nice cottage way over on the other side of Beaufort’s property. When grandma comes to visit, which is pretty often, she always brings one of those little bits of joy. When she answers my questions about it, she tells me: “Well, Ben I think of you and your sister and your mom - the things that all of you like. Then I think that I know.”

“But how do you know, grandma? Could I bring home joy?”

“Of course you can, honey. This is how you know you brought home the right piece of joy - smiles and hugs. So what I bring to you may be a plate of fresh cookies, and when I see your face all lit up with joy then I know I got it right. Once in a while I get it wrong. Remember that sweater I gave you last Christmas? I had worked hard on it and was sure you would love it. When you opened your present, you did smile, but it was that stretchy kind of smile that doesn’t last long. So if you want to bring home some joy to your mom or your sister or even your old grandma, think about what you know makes them smile a real smile.”

I’ve been thinking about that, and because it’s Christmas time, I’ll watch Abby and mom to see what makes them smile. Grandma smiles every time she sees me so that one will be hard. Maybe I could talk to Cook. They’re best friends so she might know. Anyway, that’s part of my story that you probably don’t know. I’ll give this to Cook and tell her that it’s a secret. 

 Cook smiled down at the young man “I’ll be sure that the Storyteller get’s this Ben. Now, I have some cinnamon buns cooling. How about you have a glass of milk and I’ll get my tea. You and I haven’t had a good visit for a long time.”

“Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, 

but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy.”

~ Thich Nhat Hanh

Chapter One, Episode 124 - Grandma's Sign - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update
As I read through this Episode, there were places through out almost every paragraph that seemed very disjointed. Consequently, there have been many revisions, none that change the direction of the story, but hopefully take the kinks out of it. If the writer can't even understand what's been written, expecting the reader to be able to plow through it all is completely unfair. All in all, I did enjoy the original writing and this revision. There were no typo's to deal with, just a lot of rewriting and rewording to smooth out Ben's story.

Thank you to all my readers for your patience! You are all great at giving me bouquets and I appreciate every one of them. Please feel free to let me know about any difficulties you have with my little stories.

Grandma's Sign

Each side of the little duplex had a lovely backyard separated by tall solid fencing, lattice running its length. While Martha lived there, she replaced the fence with a flowering hedge leaving a small space for a gate between the two yards. Martha and her daughter Joanie wanted easy access to one another. Of course, young Ben, her grandson, was in complete agreement. He thought it was a good idea to be able to go to grandma’s house through the little gate in the hedge.

When the duplex had been purchased, Abby had been very tiny so, although she clapped and gurgled, she really had little to say about whether to keep the fence or put in a fast growing hedge.

On Joanie’s side of the hedge, Martha gifted her precious little family with a small jungle gym set, along with a sand box. On her side, she installed a small gazebo with a hot tub. Occasionally Martha entertained various women’s groups, including a bridge club that met once a month. The children would often burst through the gate interrupting a garden party, a bridge game or just some personal quiet time, still learning what privacy meant. Joanie, the children’s mother wracked her brain for a solution that didn’t involve tears, repeated reminders or keeping the gate locked at all times. She and the young girl that often babysat puzzled it over. “Do you think a sign would help, Mrs. Richardson? I don’t know what kind but maybe I could design one with Ben this afternoon.” Tanya Meadows, the children’s baby sitter often did crafts with Ben and his little sister Abby. Using poster board and crayons, she had helped Ben make a sign for the gate. ‘Grandma’s Busy’ on one side and on the other ‘Grandma’s Home’. Joanie loved the idea and the colourful results.” She took the newly designed sign to work, had it laminated and had two holes punched in the top margin. Two cup hooks taken from a kitchen drawer, she and Ben went out to the gate. Mom screwed the cup hooks into the top of the little gate while her assistant Ben, completed their project. He stood on a little wooden box and looked up at his mom “Which side should it be, mom? The Busy side or the Home side?” Joanie bent down to him. “What do you think? Where is Grandma right now?” Ben screwed up his face, thought long and hard and then his face brightened like a lightbulb. “I know! She’s at work isn’t she? So she’s busy, right?” Proudly and with the confidence of a seven year old, he made sure the 'Grandma’s Busy' side was displayed. “Does Grandma know about the sign, mom?” Joanie took Ben by the hand, leading him into the house. “Come on. We'll send her a message on the computer and tell her we have a surprise for her. We’ll ask her to come to the gate in the hedge to get it. Grandma always checks her messages when she gets home.” 

Grandma did indeed love the sign. She always changed it before she left for work and again when she came home. Sometimes she would send Ben a message and ask him to change it. It became a little game that they both enjoyed. 

~~~~~

Several years later, when the sign was bleached and worn, Grandma Martha got married and moved all the way to the far side of the Estate. Everyone was happy for them. Everyone except Ben. He was shy to meet their new neighbour, but she worked with his grandma and she'd be living in his grandma’s house and she drove a motorcycle, so he thought she must be ok. 

~~~~~

One day, when their mother was at work and Tanya was watching the children a problem arose. Busy with Abby and her new colouring books, the very conscientious sitter glanced across the living room to see what Ben was up to. Relieved, she saw him reading the motorcycle book he had been given by the new tenant next door. Sketches of all kinds of motorcycles with short informative paragraphs beneath each picture had him entranced. He read every word and studied the sketches. Every now and then, Tanya heard a "Wow" or "Sweet". Some glossy pages of classic motorcycles with the owner astride the bike weren't studied as intently as the sketches. He thought they were great, - "I'd really like to ride that one!" - but he was more interested in all the parts of a motorcycles. Ignoring his video games, he had pored over the book. But now, it lay open on his lap. Staring blankly at the trees outside, he wore a sad, sad look on his face. Tanya had looked up again: it had become too quiet. “Ben! What’s wrong? You look so sad.” 

Ben turned his big sad brown eyes to her. Tanya had come over to him, sat on the couch and lifted his nine year old weight onto her lap as though he were a much smaller child. “You miss your grandma already, don't you, Ben? She must miss you too.” Without even looking at her, he said in a hushed voice, his lower lip quivering “Sure I miss Grandma, but what about the sign?”. 

Tanya leaned back and looked at Ben quizzically. “What sign?” “You know. The sign. The Grandma’s Busy sign. The one you and I made. Don’t you remember?” Ben was quite frustrated with his favourite babysitter. “You don’t remember, do you?” He slid down from her lap and took her hand, pulling her forcefully to the back door. “Slow down. Let me get Abby, Ben, and I’ll come with you. Where are you going?……….Abby, come with us for a minute. Ben wants to show us something.” Abby jumped off her chair, bringing her crayon and colouring book with her. “It's ok. He’s just going outside to the sign.”

Tanya thought What is with a sign? What’s so important that it makes Ben almost cry? Out the back door, across the back porch and down the steps, something gnawed at the back of her mind. Of course. The Grandma sign! Ben saw Tanya’s face light up. "Now you know don’t you? The sign on the gate isn’t right anymore. We have to take it down."

“A child needs a grandparent, anybody’s grandparent, to grow 

a little more securely into an unfamiliar world”

~ Charles and Ann Morse

Group Dynamics II

Now that the rest of us are awake! 

Against my better judgment, I’ve decided to do another Group Dynamics piece. I really didn't think there would be another opportunity so soon. Silly me. One question I left you with yesterday was what would occur when I went to bed last night. I struggled with keeping the kitten - present name Willie or William - with me in one bedroom, door closed and my grand-dogs, Eva and Percy would sleep in the living room area. Somehow that did seem right as Eva and Percy traditionally sleep with me: present pack leader and ‘grandma’.  But would that be a problem to leave Willie in his little play area - which he, with great agility, climbs out of to dash across to the sofa, curtains…..well you get the picture. But then, he would sleep. Wouldn’t he? 

My ultimate solution was to leave my bedroom door open, let my grand dogs assume their usual places on the bed and keep my toes and fingers crossed to allow freedom of movement for all of us. Twelve week old Willie would come with me at the head of the bed and ….sleep? In light of the amount of sleeping done throughout the day, I was not hopeful. I was correct. Consequently, although Eva and Percy slept fairly soundly, I however was awakened by a little velcro tongue licking my arms, my face and at least once inside my left ear. (I really should clean my ears out more often). Kitten naps were taken on my chest, with tail in my face, and loud kitten purring or on top of my head now and then. There was an occasional hiss when a dog raised a sleepy head. Needless to say it was an interesting night. Willie, my very busy little grand kitty, has still been busy but seems to be losing energy. Poor little guy is probably tired!

“But there was a kitten on my pillow, and it was purring in my face 

and vibrating gently with every purr, and very soon, I slept.”

~ Neil Gaiman

Smudges

Smudges

The old printer chugged along. One piece of paper after another. Clear black ink showed the words Mary Ann had just written on her not quite so old laptop. Her office was a disorganized helter skelter of stacks of papers, manuals and books, more papers, new and used pens and boxes of pencils. Mary Ann missed her grandmother's old print shop with the smell of ink, the little print dies for making up the town newspaper and smudges on her fingers. She had always wanted smudges on her fingers like her grandmother. Sometimes, she would just pick up the print dies to get ‘grandma hands’. Grandma had to wear a big in-smudged white apron to keep from getting her lovely house dresses in a mess. She would always take off her apron when she heard the tinkling of the bell over the old wooden door. The customer usually wanted a handbill printed up or a letter mailed. Her grandma’s print shop was also the post office for the small mountain town.

“Grandma, why don’t you buy a new printer! That one is so old. It’s got to be at least ten years old and it only prints. You could have a new one that faxes and scans and prints.” 

Joey, Mary Ann’s 13 year old grandson had come bounding through her front door and raced into her ‘office’. He was such a good boy and would have loved the old print shop. He loved new technology, but was also fascinated with anything old. 

"Well, Joey, I suppose I could get a new printer so it could do all of those things. It just might make a difference in this funny little room I call my office. It could send out mail almost the same as my grandma did when I was just a bit younger that you. I don’t know how to do all the faxing or scanning, but I can bet you’ll show me. We could go to a store on Saturday and get one so you could help me hook it up. What do you think?”

“And can we go for pizza, too?”

“Of course. Just ask your mom. Tell her we need a day out on the town so you can help me decide what to buy.”

“Grandma, just remember that when you change the ink, even on a new printer, you have got to be careful not to get the ink all over you. Look at your hands!”

Mary Ann smiled, hugged her wonderful grandson Joey and hoped that he hadn’t seen the little tear in her eye. She did have 'grandma hands' after all.

“Before printing was discovered, a century was equal to a thousand years.”

~ Henry David Thoreau

Echo Chambers

Lessons hover silently echoing 

from grandma’s kitchen

 from classrooms K through 12

  from listening to radios waves

   eavesdropping behind a door.

Resiliency grew strong 

 with no road map 

  but shadows of fading echoes

   whispered through time

    remodeled within our hearts and minds.

“When the oak is felled the whole forest echoes with its fall but a hundred acorns are sown in silence by an unnoticed breeze." 

~ Thomas Carlyle

Homecoming

Homecoming

He opened the door to find her standing there, crying. Quietly crying, poised and well-dressed.

“I was so afraid that you wouldn’t be home. Is mom here? Do you even want me here?”

Her father hadn’t said a word. Just stared at her.

“I’ve made such a mess of my life. Of your lives. And I’m so very, very sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you asked me to leave.”

Manley just stood frozen while this woman cried and talked. He had heard it all before as had Genevieve,  his wife of 40 years. He had cut Cassandra out of his heart a long time ago, but the scar had never really healed. Today, the aching started again. They had not seen or heard from Cassie for several years and believed her dead or dying in some dirty back alley. But there she was….his Cassie-girl. Shivering and cold and crying. Manley felt soft warm hands on his shoulders.

“Manley? Who is it? Cassandra!! Oh my dear sweet daughter, come here to me! Let me get you warm. Manley, it’s ok. You come in here too and stop looking so shocked.”

Cassandra melted, sobbing, into her mother’s arms. Manley slowly stepped back into the front hall, quietly shutting out the cold, his hand lingered on the shiny brass door knob. He felt the need to do something. To get something. Go to the kitchen for some tea? He couldn’t really have seen Cassie. Is she really home?

“Manley, come in here a minute, honey. Cassie has something she wants to tell us.”

“Now, Cassie, your grandparents will be here any moment. Do you want to wait to give them your news? They will be so excited for you. Oh, honey, you’re scared. It’s ok. Maybe it would be easier to tell your dad and I first with just the three of us.”

Cassandra took a deep breath, held on to her mug of tea like it was the only thing keeping her still. She looked in her dad’s eyes. So suspicious, confused and ready to be hurt again. She had planned this day for the last year. Not by herself, but with her new friends, and with her counsellor.

“Well. Oh, this is so hard.” Cassandra  hesitated, tears slid slowly from her clear, green eyes. Then her words tumbled out without warning.

“You haven’t heard from me for so long because I have been doing a lot of work. I was in the hospital for quite awhile - that’s another story - I wouldn’t let them call you. I went through detox there then the social worker got me to a long term treatment center down east. I’ve been out from there for a year now and have my own apartment. I’ve kept a job at one of the thrift stores on the other side of the city since moving into my apartment. You also have a grandson. Caleb is two years old now. I have shown him your pictures. I would like him to meet his grandparents but will understand if you don’t want to.”

Manley’s voice had returned to him. Gruff and defensive.

“Cassie, this is quite a lot to take in when Christmas is just a day away. Sounds to me that you’re just creating your usual Christmas crisis. And where is this grandson anyway?”

“Dad, I’m not going to beg and I’m not going to fight either of you. I’m telling you all this for my son, your grandson. Right now, he is with his babysitter. I won’t wait for Grandma and Grandpa, but will go now. Please tell them I love them and hope to see them soon.”

Cassandra got up to leave, still wearing her coat and pulled her gloves from her pockets. Genevieve, always the placater of the family, turned to Manley. 

“Manley, it is Christmas. I know, that’s not an excuse and sometimes not even a good reason. Why don’t we have Cassie and little Caleb over for Christmas dinner tomorrow? In fact, Cassie, could you stay here a bit longer to help me get some of the salads ready for tomorrow.”

“I don’t know, mom. I’d love to but dad is pretty worried. We need to listen to him too.”

“Well, it might be alright. But it might be better if we went and picked up - Caleb? A good family name. Your mom could come too, but she needs to be here if your grandparents get here. I’d do it by myself but Caleb won’t know who I am. Do you think we could take a ride together?”

“Thank you dad. Mom, is that ok? I don’t live that far away so we’ll be right back.”

Genevieve felt such relief and joy at having her daughter back with her. The old niggle of fear, ever present, felt much more distant than it had for a long time.

“Every traveler has a home of his own, and he learns 

to appreciate it the more from his wandering.”

~  Charles Dickens

*Opening line from writingexercises.co.uk

Grandma's Advice

It was a saying certain my grandma shared

from a shy needle point panel hung on the wall

that always clears any cluttered space

creates wee openings through bricks of time

spaces flow rather than jigs, jogs and jags 'til

standing still slowly 

turning my gaze to side-front-side

moving forward with calmed wisdom 

for beneath the surface of any life 

fabric tears and frays

showing only a shining facade

fading and thinning slowly from above 

leaving tiny gaps prey to the sharp edges of

technology that has reshaped this world

leaving emotions unchanged yet

in a world running so much faster and more frantic

with rapidly quick solutions for tangled problems

and therein lies the value of my Grandma’s advice.

“The Hurrier I go the Behinder I get.”

~  Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Educating Courtney

Educating Courtney

“Mom, do you remember when I applied to all those universities when I got out of high school. All the paperwork and all the questions to answer. Writing a cover letter, writing an essay about why I wanted the programs I was asking for.  Just getting out of high school and knowing nothing about anything?” 

“Oh yes, I sure do remember. I remember I wanted to pull my hair out with all the questions you asked me. And then there were your moods that went up and down and sideways after you mailed all three of them out.”

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”

“Well, maybe not with your friends but with me and your dad, you sure were. But we all got through it. You were accepted to all three universities. And then you didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to leave home and your friends that you’d known since kindergarten. The university you finally chose was only an hours drive from here, but you still thought that was too far. I reminded you that you really could come home every weekend.”

“You dropped everything so you and dad could drive me over there. We took a day trip to the little town of Morganstern. That town was and still is so small it didn’t seem that it should be a university town. But there it was. The prettiest little university campus that I’ve ever seen. As soon as I saw it, walked on the grounds, watched the families and new grads coming out into the fresh air, I knew I could to it. I could live there and I could focus on my studies. I was certain there wouldn’t be any guys there to distract me. I could just go out in the country with my books and the quiet. But there was this one guy there…”

“It only takes one, honey and he’s turned out to be a pretty good son-in-law.”

“He’s kind of cute too, in a hunky sort of way. And there they are. Dad and his two kiddo’s coming in the front door.”

Courtney called out to her young family. “Lunch is ready and on the table. You just got here on time. All of you go get washed up before you sit down, please. Grandma’s here for lunch too.”

“Hey, girls. What have you been up to today? All this time on your hands to just visit and play in the kitchen.”

The children burst into the kitchen chattering and laughing, racing past their mom to the waiting arms of their Grandma. Always a special source of smiles and hugs and much, much love. Courtney had graduated with a Degree in Family Studies in that little campus town, with the added bonus of a gaining a rambunctious loving family.

“I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.”

~ Mark Twain