grandmother's story

The clouds were painting perfect, nearly unbelievable and such a blessing. The woman sang as she stepped out of the shower and toweled the renegade water off her body. She called to her husband that it was time to get up and checked the bed when no answer came. No one there. She was happy that he knew today was special and not to give her any grief. She dusted herself with the rose-scented powder her younger sister gave her for Christmas and put on her robe. A little breakfast and then she would make herself up and dress.

The smell of coffee and eggs and bacon filled the house outside of her room She looked in the boys’ room out of habit and headed to the kitchen. The living room added another smell. Where those pancakes? Yes, definitely pancakes, her favorite.

Honey, I am never going to fit into my clothes after eating all that.

He whirled around beaming already dressed for the day.

Good morning! An extended and surprising kiss. You’ll look wonderful no matter what. Gotta have a good start to today, right? Plus I made it special. Please?

Okay, dear. She reached for the coffee mug cabinet door.

Uh uh uh. Sit down.

But…

I would like to serve you this morning.

He gently scooted her to the table, pulled out the chair, placed the napkin in her lap, and began caricaturing a snooty waiter.

And what would the mademoiselle have this morning?

Her guffaws snorted.

If the lady wishes, our special today is a plate of eggs, bacon and pancakes and comes with a piping hot mug of our finest Folgers coffee.

Stop! My stomach! I’ll have that.

Yes, madam.

Once the plates were set and the coffee poured, he looked at her and asked, Will you do the honors?

The bowed their heads, and she blessed the food to the nourishment of their bodies and sent thanks for their healthy children and granddaughters.

Are you nervous?

I’m trying not to be. It’s not like there is any going back now. Once I’m up there, I should be fine, right? It can’t be that much harder than singing?

You’ll be wonderful.

This was the right decision? I’m not making a fool of myself or you or the family?

We’ve always followed where the Lord leads. I wouldn’t doubt Him now.

Yes. It’s just not what I expected of life.

No.

The meal ended in thought. He cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. She went to their room and made up her face and dressed in the new dress she bought for the occasion. Sensible, comfortable and lovely, it gave her a shot of confidence.

Bobby, we need to get going soon. I don’t want to rush you, but we shouldn’t be late.

I’m almost ready. Just need to slip on my shoes. Can you grab my purse?

Already done.

This is the start of the story for my grandmother. I know the general plot but this is as far as I was able to get. This piece is fiction, so these characters are not my family. They are my family filtered through my brain and placed in this plot.

the spittoon

She found the spittoon at a garage sale on her way home early in December. It needed some work, but she saw what it could be and bought it. Back at home, she went to the work room in the backyard. She filled the piece with water and let it soak until the sun hit noon. Polish and elbow grease and time and aching shoulders and a sore back later it was done. The sun reflected off of the brass surface.

The house had to have the perfect place for it. She ran through each nook in her mind and decided upon the empty corner in the spare bathroom. Satisfied, she moved on to cleaning up the work room and the preparing dinner.
~~
The week had been beige. He hated beige. So he decided to buy something lovely for the house to make himself feel better and make her smile. The overpriced floral shop spoke to him, and so he walked in and grabbed the first medium sized bouquet that had daisies and left.

She was already home, but he heard her in the kitchen and decided to sneak to the back and set up the arrangement for her. A slight glitch: there were no vases in his room, in her room, in the bathroom, or the hall closet. He heard her heading down the hall, and he ducked into the spare toilet. There was the spittoon. Not perfect but it would work. He placed the flowers in it, added some water, and returned it to its spot.
~~
Dinner had ended. He had finished the dishes, and they were reading on the couch. She suddenly jumped up and ran to grab what she had wanted to show him all night. He smiled and waited for her return, but the smile faded as her footsteps clomped back into the living room. She glared at him, placed the spittoon in the center of the floor, dropped her skirts around it, and he heard the piss pouring from her. He screamed, but she only stopped when she was done.

The moral of the story:

You don't put flowers in a spittoon.

My grandfather had a spittoon in his bathroom this Xmas. Apparently my grandmother said that she would put flowers in it. My grandfather said he would pee on them, because you don't put flowers in a spittoon.