Day 11 of Encantober was Door - there's one in there I swear
The Room with a View
Time flies, children grow.
The world shifts in ways we cannot know.
Always there, their joys we share.
Until we too must go.
But not with sadness do we leave,
Within the dark, we see so very clearly
All our fears, drifting by so slowly
Alma tapped her pen against her chin and after a few moments set it down and closed the journal. This was the final page and she wanted to end it with a nice poem. But when she read it back to herself, she was not satisfied. Julieta and Pepa had been pestering her for years to write a family history of her life before the Encanto. Alma had resisted but they persisted and even had gotten her some journals to write it all down. It was getting dark and her ninety-year-old eyes did not like the dimness of evening anyway she preferred candle light to the electric light bulbs Casita used now.
She sat by the window in the tower and watched her los bisnientos playing under the watchful eye of their Tía Isabela and Tío Antonio. There was a gentle knock and she waited for Casita to open the door. Alma saw the courtyard behind Mirabel and was just as impressed with Casita's ability to adapt to their needs. Alma had Casita move her room to the tower once Mirabel ready to take over for her. Casita, she found, could move her door alternately from the wall on the first floor to the tower itself once it became clear she could no longer navigate stairs.
"Good evening Abuela," Mirabel said. She was balancing a toddler on her hip and tray in her hand. She came in and set it down on the table near the window. Alma held out her arms and Mira passed her the squirming girl. This child was her namesake and Alma took strange pleasure in holding little Alma Madrigal. Mirabel said, "Alma, be gentle with your bisabuela." The little girl pursed her lips but stopped wiggling once she saw the look on her mother's face.
Mirabel sat across from her in the only other chair and let out a sigh. "What a day," she said leaning back. Mirabel told her about all the events that had happened in town that day. How Camilo's hobby of making movies, was turning into a full-time thing. Luisa opening her second vet practice was set to happen in a few weeks. She talked for a few more minutes about this and that and said as she collected her daughter, "I know you're going to say you're not hungry, but Isa's made something special tonight."
"Oh?"
"Yes, it's called…a hamburger."
"That sounds awful," Alma said.
"Yeah, that's what I thought too, but I had one…it was delicious. Make sure you put some avocado on it too."
Alma inspected the food under the towel and asked, "What is this red…stuff."
"Catsup," Mira said and added when Alma picked up the small bowl giving it a suspicious look, "No, it is not made from cats. It's tomato sauce with spices."
"Fine, I will try it. Please tell your sister thank you."
"You could tell her yourself," a voice said at the door. Alma turned to see Isa was there, leaning on doorframe, arms crossed and a pair of sobrinos clutching her pant legs. Little Alma wriggled loose from her mother and ran over to her Tía.
"Why you always stealing my babies, sis?"
Isa smiled and said, "Cause I can do this." And caught up little Alma absently waving her hand making a ring of daisies in her almost blond curly hair.
"Well, you got her now, and it's bath night," Mirabel said and patted Isa's arms as she walked out the door into the kitchen. Isa sighed and said, "Got me again."
Little Alma giggled and her primos hearing the word bath, had disappeared. "Say goodnight to Bisabuela, Alma."
"Night, Bisi!"
"Good night Abuela," Isa said turned toward the bathroom. Casita closed her door and Alma poked the bread covering the hamburger. It was soft…She did as Mirabel suggested and spread some avocado on it. She looked at it and decided she should have spread it on the inside. Too late she thought and flipped the bread over and took a tentative bite. Hmm, not bad. She ate a little more even dipped it in the catsup. She drank her tea and decided she was done.
She went back to her writing table and opened the journal. She crossed out what she'd previously written and changed it slightly. Satisfied now she left the journal open and got ready for bed.
Later that night, Mirabel came back for the tray and saw the journal open and curious she read:
Time flies, children grow.
The world shifts in ways I cannot know.
Always there, their joys I share.
Until I too must go.
But not with sadness do I leave,
Within the dark, I see so very clearly
My fears, once so great, drifting by
Slowly fading away.