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The Memory Barrel
By: DBLorgan
The First Step is the hardest…….
The first sign of winter was in the air.
Their small cabin hidden in the woods, in a place most would only dream about.
The road was hard to find and they liked it that way. Only family and friends knew where they would be and how to find them.
They lived there…
They built it together…
It was their special place.
Upon entering the cabin, a fireplace with a wood stove sat on the right.
A handmade mantle set above the fireplace, covered with pictures of old and young. Their home softly decorated with a country touch filled with magic and imagination. The air would always hold the scent of recently extinguished candles.
It was their playhouse, built for two playmates and best friends.
When we would run into the neighbors they would smile telling stories of hearing the bike roaring wildly through the trees as their laughter hung on in the air, (and is probably still echoing somewhere in the deep of those woods). They were always searching to find hidden fishing holes, or bushes filled with berries to make her homemade jam.
They had the magic…
Grami loved to fish and Poppa loved watching her as she caught them. It never mattered to her the size of fish… just that she caught something. It always made her smile that huge exciting smile.
I will miss her.
They say that writing things down will help you to make sense of things. I am not sure if that is true or not. Time will tell, as it always does. Gram loved to journal all the time. She always had her own special place to go.
“Find your special place,” she would insist. “You need it baby girl.”
Hers was always by the water, resting against her old oak tree. You could always find her there with her pen in hand. It worked for her so…
(Journal Entry)
It is almost midnight and everyone is sleeping. At least I think they are.
I am trying to sort out the events of the day.
Trying to sort out tomorrow.
Trying to sort out the minute that is coming after this one.
Sleep is but a dream for me tonight.
I can see across the street, the lights are still on in Mrs. Adair’s house. Shar and Grami have been friends for years and they were always there for each other. Their friendship was what all of us look for. Gram called Shar her Anam Cara. She had explained this meant soul friend.
Laughter filled the air when they were in the same room talking of times past. They would shake their heads in amazement as they told of the memories they walked through together. If you were there, you would just be still and watch them interact with each other. You could see they were like sisters and true kindred spirits. They were of one heart.
She will miss her.
I remember the stories they would tell of the fun times and the trying times.
The times they would read their bibles by the flickering lights of the oil lamps. Oil lamps placed in every room to give light when the darkness filled the sky.
Grami strived to be prepared at all times and that is just how she lived her life.
“Expect the unexpected.”
Not because the normal lighting was not available…of course, it was…yet if the bills are not paid, one must survive in other ways. Money was scarce in those days for her.
Shar was just as strong as Gram giving her encouragement. She was a shoulder to lean on when there was no one else.
She had no fear. Shar would be with Grami side by side and Gram always remembered this and kept it deep in her heart. No matter where their paths took them, they survived life’s unexpected traumas as well as moments of laughter together.
Their paths seem to smooth out, as they got older.
Shar divorcing twice just like Gram and finding herself in the medical field helping others in any way she could. They never left each other side for too long. I know she is having a difficult time sleeping tonight. I can see her daughters’ cars parked outside her home. Tonight is not a good night to be alone.
Her three daughters loved Gram like a second Mom, and she loved them.
They will miss her.
I can feel the cool breeze blowing through the window in my kitchen.
I love feeling the cool winter air. It always makes me feel better.
I just cannot believe she is gone.
My grandmother….. Took her last breath yesterday.
I write this in disbelief, yet I feel she is here.
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