Short chapter, I know. Nothing to do with the series yet... Wait a
chapter... it'll get longer... and more into the whole FAN part of fan
fiction. For now, read and review please! I won't even make you sign in!
Oh, and Flames with be laughed at... or perhaps used to cook dinner...
Disclaimer: I don't own anything... accept for maybe the ring mentioned. Story behind it's true, too.
It was that time of year again. Yeah, that's right folks: Christmas. A time for families to gather together and exchange presents and mutual unconditional love. A time for stuffing your face with rich foods. A time for Christmas trees, bright lights, running out to Wall-Mart in the middle of the night thanking god that the employers found some poor schmuck to work on Christmas Eve and at the same time shooting yourself in the foot for forgetting to pick up the items form lay-away. Yes, overall, it's a magical time of year. And I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
I looked myself in the mirror and stared at the person there. White hair, hazel eyes, wrinkled skin, make-up used to make me look younger only to make it look like I was trying too hard, thick-lensed glasses... What ever happened to that dark-blonde-haired 35-year-old beauty that used to great me every time I gazed into a reflective surface? Well, I reminded myself, she left you years ago. Fifty-five years ago to be exact. Yes, at the dear, tender, WISE age of 87, I was no longer the young swinging chick I had once been. That was okay with me. You rather lose the need to be attractive to the desired sex when you have grandchildren.
My children, both of them, were both grown now, and each had two of their own. My husband, or rather, EX-husband and I had divorced when our oldest, Emily, was 5 years old. My son, adopted though he was, still my son whom I loved dearly, was 8 at the time and had just become legally mine. Yes, my dear Emily and Isaac were quite crushed by the whole matter, but once they were old enough and I told them my reason, that the man had cheated on me, they quickly understood and scorned the man, Isaac especially.
And now, after a wonderful life, here I stood in the church bathroom, staring at my reflection and remembering everything that I had seen. God, was I really that old already?
Yes, dear, you are. Now quit your moping and go get yourself to your son's house before you disappoint the children by being more than fashionable late!
87 years, and my inner voice was still as pushy as anything.
"GRANDMA!!!" And I was nearly knocked off my feet. One never tires of the sensation, even when the kids are no longer kids, but budding young adults. "Grandma, Grandma! You made it!" Sometimes when one says "young adult," the emphasis is on "young."
"Gee, ma, we thought you might have gotten lost in a snow bank or something!" Isaac, my ever-so-sweet, always polite and respectful son. (Did I ever mention I always wanted to be an actress?)
"Come, mom, let me take your coat. Go rest by the fire." At least he married a real sweetheart. Alyssa eyed my bags. "Mom, I thought I told you to go easy this year! The kids are spoiled as it is!"
I laughed at her. "Alyssa, darling, when you're as old as I am, you come to realize that the only thing left for you to do is complain about how much things have changed, tell stories about the good old days, and spoil your grandchildren."
"Amen, grandma!" Joseph always did take after his father.
"Joseph!" Alyssa scorned.
"What? Aren't I allowed to agree with my own grandma?!" And we all laughed. "So! How about those presents?" And I dished them out, just as my grandmother had done for myself and my brothers, and my mother had done for my kids. Yes, girls, that's right: unless you fight it with a passion, there is little escaping getting at least SOME part of your mother. But don't worry: generally, you only get the good stuff. The rest is weeded out by adaptation and whatnot.
And then came to the one I had been waiting to give all night. Maggie, a sweet girl of 12, had recently reached the biological stage of womanhood, and, like all young girls receiving the rite of passage, hated it. So I had a special gift surprised for her.
"Maggie," I said "Come here." And she obeyed "Do you remember when I showed you all of my old jewelry? That one silver ring you liked" She nodded. And I pulled the same one out of my pocket. Simple sterling silver, the band was thin and the decorations plain. Yet still it managed to show off an elegance that only an older sterling silver could. "Remember what I said? I bought it when I was 14, not much older than you, in Boston. I didn't want to leave the city without being able to go home and show my mother something I had bought..."
"You went down to Quincy Market and bought it five minutes before you had to leave. Just like that. On the spur of the moment." She finished.
"That's right." I said, and slipped it onto her finger. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Now you have it." She looked at me as if to say "really?" I nodded. She hugged my tightly then went to go show Alyssa.
I was back in my own home, the home that I had wanted since I was a young girl. Lying in my bed, I looked at the ceiling, slowly drifting off to sleep. The last thing I can remember is being felled with such joy. "I could die now, right now, in my sleep, and be perfectly happy with myself."
Disclaimer: I don't own anything... accept for maybe the ring mentioned. Story behind it's true, too.
It was that time of year again. Yeah, that's right folks: Christmas. A time for families to gather together and exchange presents and mutual unconditional love. A time for stuffing your face with rich foods. A time for Christmas trees, bright lights, running out to Wall-Mart in the middle of the night thanking god that the employers found some poor schmuck to work on Christmas Eve and at the same time shooting yourself in the foot for forgetting to pick up the items form lay-away. Yes, overall, it's a magical time of year. And I wouldn't have missed it for the world.
I looked myself in the mirror and stared at the person there. White hair, hazel eyes, wrinkled skin, make-up used to make me look younger only to make it look like I was trying too hard, thick-lensed glasses... What ever happened to that dark-blonde-haired 35-year-old beauty that used to great me every time I gazed into a reflective surface? Well, I reminded myself, she left you years ago. Fifty-five years ago to be exact. Yes, at the dear, tender, WISE age of 87, I was no longer the young swinging chick I had once been. That was okay with me. You rather lose the need to be attractive to the desired sex when you have grandchildren.
My children, both of them, were both grown now, and each had two of their own. My husband, or rather, EX-husband and I had divorced when our oldest, Emily, was 5 years old. My son, adopted though he was, still my son whom I loved dearly, was 8 at the time and had just become legally mine. Yes, my dear Emily and Isaac were quite crushed by the whole matter, but once they were old enough and I told them my reason, that the man had cheated on me, they quickly understood and scorned the man, Isaac especially.
And now, after a wonderful life, here I stood in the church bathroom, staring at my reflection and remembering everything that I had seen. God, was I really that old already?
Yes, dear, you are. Now quit your moping and go get yourself to your son's house before you disappoint the children by being more than fashionable late!
87 years, and my inner voice was still as pushy as anything.
"GRANDMA!!!" And I was nearly knocked off my feet. One never tires of the sensation, even when the kids are no longer kids, but budding young adults. "Grandma, Grandma! You made it!" Sometimes when one says "young adult," the emphasis is on "young."
"Gee, ma, we thought you might have gotten lost in a snow bank or something!" Isaac, my ever-so-sweet, always polite and respectful son. (Did I ever mention I always wanted to be an actress?)
"Come, mom, let me take your coat. Go rest by the fire." At least he married a real sweetheart. Alyssa eyed my bags. "Mom, I thought I told you to go easy this year! The kids are spoiled as it is!"
I laughed at her. "Alyssa, darling, when you're as old as I am, you come to realize that the only thing left for you to do is complain about how much things have changed, tell stories about the good old days, and spoil your grandchildren."
"Amen, grandma!" Joseph always did take after his father.
"Joseph!" Alyssa scorned.
"What? Aren't I allowed to agree with my own grandma?!" And we all laughed. "So! How about those presents?" And I dished them out, just as my grandmother had done for myself and my brothers, and my mother had done for my kids. Yes, girls, that's right: unless you fight it with a passion, there is little escaping getting at least SOME part of your mother. But don't worry: generally, you only get the good stuff. The rest is weeded out by adaptation and whatnot.
And then came to the one I had been waiting to give all night. Maggie, a sweet girl of 12, had recently reached the biological stage of womanhood, and, like all young girls receiving the rite of passage, hated it. So I had a special gift surprised for her.
"Maggie," I said "Come here." And she obeyed "Do you remember when I showed you all of my old jewelry? That one silver ring you liked" She nodded. And I pulled the same one out of my pocket. Simple sterling silver, the band was thin and the decorations plain. Yet still it managed to show off an elegance that only an older sterling silver could. "Remember what I said? I bought it when I was 14, not much older than you, in Boston. I didn't want to leave the city without being able to go home and show my mother something I had bought..."
"You went down to Quincy Market and bought it five minutes before you had to leave. Just like that. On the spur of the moment." She finished.
"That's right." I said, and slipped it onto her finger. Her eyes widened in surprise. "Now you have it." She looked at me as if to say "really?" I nodded. She hugged my tightly then went to go show Alyssa.
I was back in my own home, the home that I had wanted since I was a young girl. Lying in my bed, I looked at the ceiling, slowly drifting off to sleep. The last thing I can remember is being felled with such joy. "I could die now, right now, in my sleep, and be perfectly happy with myself."