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Irish Rose
Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263


0 posted 2000-09-26 05:07 PM


(I'd love some feedback on this one, from people who had not seen what I'm describing, I want to know if you see it also!

I pulled my car up to the curb of this street I had seen through many seasons and many years.  My Aunt Ann's house stood as a testimony to the security it brought to her and where acorns once laid,  now stood statuesque oak trees.  The leaves were already
beginning to fall,leaving gold and crimson stains on the dampened sidewalk.  I held in a deep breath as I opened the car door and prepared for my visit.   The path to the front porch was a familiar one.  I had walked it many times during my life, and each time it brought different feelings to me.

Everything to this had a purpose and everything seemed unchangeable.  A weathered mailbox hung on one hinge next to the front door.  To my left, the row of chairs lining the enclosed porch, now sat empty.  One rocker was moving and yet, I knew it
was only the breeze that playing with it.  I
noticed that left below the front step was the evening newspaper, rubber banded and tossed carelessly by a boy who thought nothing of bouncing down the steps to retrieve it.  
I knew the front door was always dead bolted, so I
immediately began to walk around to the back of the house.

I knew what I would find along the side of the house. depending on the season,   Rows of flowers, hostas, four o-clock's, phlox, in every imaginable color and fragrance awaited me. They were bathed in sunshine and held cradle drops of autumn rain, blooming continuously. Against the side of the house, I noticed a garden hoe and shovel.  I unlatched the steel gate as I had so often done in the past, proceeded to knock on the kitchen door.  

I knew Aunt Ann was expecting me and yet, I had been worried due to the state of her health and I knew quite possibly, she could have fallen and been unable to answer the door. The back door was unlocked, just as she promised it would be, and I entered slowly through the kitchen and found her asleep in her chair in front of the television set. Setting my purse down on the nearest chair, so as not to disturb her, I couldn't help but listen to the sounds of music humming through this house.

The stove was playing a symphony of leftover mashed potatoes, and the refrigerator carried notes of fresh vegetables needing to be cut and sliced. Upon viewing the yellow table, I knew I had my work cut out for me.  I turned to the sink and found a red and white checked washcloth and gently began wiping off the tabletop to prepare for the lunch we would soon enjoy together.  A St.. Anthony's calendar was barely clinging to life on the wall above the table showing the month to be long past.  Post it notes were everywhere and the bulletin board on the back door was still displaying an Ann Landers article from 1975.  

Scores of prescription drugs kept company in the center of the table and brown sections of apples still held their place in a knife. A new jar of peanut butter was left unopened and I knew she
would want me to open it for her before I left.  
The thermos of coffee seemed cold and I set out to heat up a kettle of water. The 1940 gas stove never failed to ignite, and there was always the kettle waiting for me, along with several cast iron skillets, greased and ready for the next meal.   Aunt Ann was still sleeping, and I walked down the hall to the bathroom remembering myself as the child who, at 7 years old, would spend the night and make-believe in the largest bathroom I'd ever been in.  


"Kay Sue, is that you, honey? I'm sorry, I'm not a very good hostess. I fell asleep, I'll be right out."  Her voice cracked.  
"Yes, it's me, don't get up, I'll come in there, just give me a minute to get our coffee, I know how you like yours."  I replied.
"Remember honey, half a teaspoon, that darn coffee is so expensive, don't make it too strong." She called from the living room. "I'm so glad to see you, tell me, how have you been, and how are the kids? You know, your sisters never come by, the little snots." She smiled.  "Aunt Ann, they will, they're just busy, you know, and their kids are younger than mine and keep them running everywhere." I knew I'd better change the subject.
As she continued to wake up, she reached for a cigarette.

"Darn lighter. I can't work it, can you look at this, I think I need my money back" she grew frustrated.
"No, Aunt Ann, it's a childproof lighter, one of those new ones, you know, here let me see it." I reached for it and quickly lit her cigarette. Aunt Ann had been smoking for seventy-five years, and she when she wanted one, I didn't argue with her.  
The walker in front of her held her purse and two empty newspaper plastic bags, assuring she would not have to get up to throw something away.  To her left, on the small cherry table, a new touch-tone phone had replaced the rotary one that had been there for years.

"Joey bought this phone for me, don't know what I'd do without my kids." She smiled again, and reached for her coffee.  
I watched Little Joe's face fade into nothingness, as I turned the television set off and settled down on the couch across from her. I listened as she began to speak, and I could hear the worry in her voice.

"I had a rough week, Kay Sue, you knew I fell again, didn't you."
"No, what happened!"
"I laid on the floor for nearly four hours, couldn't reach the phone, a lot of good it does me when I'm flat on my back. It made me so angry. "
Changing the subject, she began to tell me a story I'd never heard. "Did I ever tell you about the time I would take my kids for walks? You know, just to listen, and see what was on their minds?
"No, tell me, tell me about it, Aunt Ann."

Well, you know, in those days I never had a car, never drove and I had to walk everywhere. Whenever one of my kids would need me I'd take them for a walk and by the time we returned home, I sure had them straightened out.  Once around the block was usually enough, all we did was talk and listen. That's all t hey needed.  Once I knew Joey was running with the wrong bunch of kids, and we went for a walk.  By the time we arrived back here, he knew what I expected and he knew I was right.  Same thing with Mary Alice, they were both good kids."
"You sure love your kids, don't you, and you were so blessed to have twins."
I no sooner began stirring my coffee and settling back than I heard that familiar question.
"Are you hungry."

Through sleepy eyes, Aunt Ann confessed all she'd had to eat all day was popcorn and Reese's Peanut Butter cups.  
"Aunt Ann, I know you have lasagna out there, I'm going to heat it up in the microwave and toss a salad.  Would you like that."  I asked.
"That sounds great, let's eat in the dining room, it's more elegant." She answered.

I brought in two place settings and entertained the idea of bringing fresh flowers in from the yard, however, I feared she would follow me.  I didn't want her to go outside, she was too wobbly.  I couldn't take the chance that she would fall.  Cautiously, she drew the walker to herself and gaining momentum, she  began walking to the dining room table.  Around her neck hung a key I don't ever remember her being without.  For without it, Aunt Ann would not be able to leave the house.  
The dining room held the most beautiful table and chairs you ever saw. It was styled in imperial accents almost like a queen's setting, the chairs were tall and stately. The wood boasted a beautiful sheen, and a bureau stood proudly beside a closet door that displayed a full-length mirror.  

"Honey, before you heat the food, would you mind stamping a few bills?  I know the phone company will wonder what happened if I don't get this bill in the mail."  She asked almost in desperation.  I noticed upon looking at the bill, as she handed it to me, that it had only arrived yesterday, and I smiled.  The stamps were on rolls, continued in a small bureau type desk with nooks and crannies and pictures of her grandchildren.  As I prepared the bill to be mailed, she had reached the table, and sat down with a heavy sigh. "Aunt Ann, would you like a printed address label for the return label?" I asked.

"Please, I have thousands. Thank heaven I've lived here for sixty-six years, I'll never use all the ones I receive"  she laughed.  I returned to the kitchen and put the lasagna into the microwave, which she affectionately called "Mike".  I had slowly become a full-blooded Italian sharing these lasagna meals with her.  I glanced out the window to the back yard, and noticed the plump, juicy, red tomatoes hanging on their stalks.  "Joey put those out for me this year, aren't they beautiful?"  Aunt Ann had always had a garden she could be proud of.  Once, I remember her telling me how she buried eggshells and coffee grounds into the dirt, and I marveled at the way she never wasted anything.  How could she?

It all came back to her a hundredfold.  I knew the tomatoes would be sweet and delicious because nothing that grew in her yard ever failed.  
We sat down and began to eat, sharing our lives and recalling times when those she loved had been among us.  The food tasted good, but the conversation was the main entrĂ©e. Aunt Ann wanted someone to share her meal with, someone who would listen and laugh, and someone she loved and who loved her.  She knew that I did.  There was nothing I'd rather do on a Friday afternoon, than to have this time with her.  
Suddenly, the front door bell rang. A more reverent meal had arrived.  The lady from St. Anthony's was standing there holding Communion for Aunt Ann.



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Kathleen






[This message has been edited by Irish Rose (edited 09-26-2000).]

© Copyright 2000 Kathleen - All Rights Reserved
AngelShell
Member
since 2000-03-01
Posts 446
not heaven nor hell so...
1 posted 2000-09-30 07:58 AM


Wow, I think the first few paragraphs were my favourite...when you were describing the house and it's surroundings...you're a very talented descriptive writer.

Aunt Ann was a very strong character, I don't think she could have been any thing less...

A great piece of work.

Christopher
Moderator
Member Rara Avis
since 1999-08-02
Posts 8296
Purgatorial Incarceration
2 posted 2000-10-06 12:23 PM


Perty cool here Kathleen. youv'e done an admirable job putting across the imagery of the situations. As with all your writing, well done.

Christopher

Irish Rose
Member Patricius
since 2000-04-06
Posts 10263

3 posted 2000-10-06 04:23 PM


Thank you Christopher, coming from you, that's a real boost.

Kathleen


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