Those first few months in the house were like a dream. The kids loved the large spaces and investigated every corner in every room. I worked in one room after another dusting and vacuuming. Generally cleaning. I didn’t move much or do any deep cleaning yet, but I gave that huge house a fresh dose of love. The kids considered it a big adventure and gave names to the rooms. They investigated the grounds and buildings around the house. Every afternoon we took a walk, discovering together, the size and shape of the land around us. I spent the mornings looking for work. I hoped to get work which I could do at home. I was a graphic design artist and web designer. There were no jobs in this rural setting in my field. I did however land a small contract for a website design, but usually spent several hours every few days searching the assignment lists on-line. I took one here and there. It wasn’t much but it helped. After our noon meal each day we went to sit with Grandma. The children’s great grandmother. Today Teddy clutched in his little fist a crumpled bunch of wild flowers for Great-Nanna. The nurse put them in a vase and set it on her window sill. Great-Nanna’s eyes lit up when the children came in. Great-Nanna was sitting in her armchair. Her feet on the little stool. A light blanket which Aunt Melinda had crocheted for her draped over her lap. She was so little and frail. Yet her eyes shone with a bigness which declared the largeness of the soul inside her small body. She looked forward to these visits, the guide around which her day revolved. I couldn’t think how it was for her before I brought the children to live up here. Long silent days. I couldn’t imagine the hours upon hours spent wondering and remembering but still so silent. The only noise that of the nursing home residences and the nurses inquiring at scheduled intervals if she needed anything. Aunt Melinda had always been there for Grandma, a faithful loving daughter, yet Aunt Melinda was getting older and had health issues of her own. I hadn’t known much about what was going on until I took a weekend vacation from my life. I was at a turning point myself and had come at Aunt Melinda’s request to sit with Grandma after her surgery. It was a time of respite for me. A time to sit with my beautiful Grandma and think about my life. The anger and confusion of a love grown cold. The meaninglessness of my anxious life. The emotions and feelings that rose to the surface because of the rejection by the one person I had left everything else for. The little clues all coming together and making sense now. I had sat there beside her and wept. I had wept for myself. The years, I imagined, were lost now. I couldn’t understand what had gone wrong. I wept for my children. How different their life will be. What will they want and yearn for in time because of what is happening to their parents. Will it hurt them permanently? Will they be all right? At the end of that weekend I promised Grandma I would be back. I came back every weekend and sat beside her. She became a little stronger but we were sure that she would not be going home. That last weekend before I brought little Greta and Teddy up to the house she had pressed a key into my hand. She said in a whisper, “Lottie, this is the key to my house. It is your house now. You take this key and use the house for your own. Melinda will give you the book. Take care of it.” I was in awe. I hadn’t seen the house since I was a child and my parents had taken us up there for summer vacations. It was as though Grandma was giving me the key to freedom. Aunt Melinda confirmed what Grandma had said. She wanted me to sign the documents to be a caretaker on the property. We went to the bank and did all the necessary signing. That was the day I went to the house for the first time since I had been a child. I had made some hard decisions that weekend. I knew the house was home. It was drawing me in, into it’s walls, it’s history, it’s safety. It was much too big, but what a world it was. I wasn’t used to being able to breathe freely. I didn’t have to watch my step here. I didn’t have to worry about the children because this was their heaven. Our lives had settled into a routine with Great-Nanna as the center. In the evening I settled Greta and Teddy down in Grandma’s big bed. I lay between them and we talked and I told stories to them until they fell asleep. It was so peaceful here. After I was sure they were sleeping I got up. I got a glass of cold tea from the fridge and a piece of leftover cake and sat at the desk in the library. I put a piece of paper in the old typewriter and began to type. I typed for about an hour. It was relaxing, well not for my fingers but for my soul. Putting words onto paper that way. It was also invigorating. I can write anything I want. I can be anybody I want to be. Be anywhere I want to be. I can do anything at all that I want to do when I put my fingers on the keys and start to type. I looked at the typed pages. This typewriter definitely needs a new ribbon. But it was gratifying to see the words I had typed. They lay across the pages unrivaled. I ate the cake and drank the tea. Sleep was sweet between my two babes, in the middle of my Grandma’s bed.
Elizabeth Williams, writing exercise, 1,017 words.
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