So, since
Germie has finished his rough draft of the first book in my trilogy, I've been
inspired to start writing things again. I've written a few short stories in my
day. I would be no means say that I am a writer, however. I just like to do it.
So I found a website that generates settings, first few words of the first
sentence, and then four additional words that must be used in the story. One of
my best stories was written with such a prompt. You can read it by going to the
archives and picking, "For the Love of Patsy Cline."
This one is
a bit sappy but I still enjoyed writing it. Here are the prompts:
setting: in
a sauna
first words:
The stairs seemed
additional
words: quench, drip, dribble, toenails.
So without
further ado, I give you, "The Sauna."
The Sauna
The stairs
seemed awfully steep for a sauna that catered to the elderly. I was looking for
my grandmother who has walked away from me while I was trying to re-register
her at the Senior Center. I knew that she loved the sauna so that was the first
place that I went to look. By the looks of the stairs, I assumed that the
center management only wanted the more agile of the seniors to utilize the
sauna.
I started to
ascend the steps when a very harsh voice called out, “What do you think you are
doing, young lady?!” I turned to see a short, nicely muscled man about 60 years
old. He was wearing a towel around his waist and I was praying that he had on
shorts underneath.
“I believe
my grandmother is in there and I have an appointment I need to take her to.”
Grandmother was supposed to be seeing a therapist to help her cope with the
recent loss of Grandfather. They did everything together and she was not doing
well without him. She seemed lost.
“Well, you
can’t go in there dressed like that. All that denim will clog the vent with its
fibers.” He then pointed me towards the women’s dressing area. As I entered, I
saw a bin marked “soiled” and could only imagine what constituted soiled around
here. Next to it was a book shelf, most likely from IKEA, which had each shelf
labeled with different sizes. Upon closer inspection, I was pleasantly
surprised to see stacks of blue cotton cover-ups that matched the polish on my
toenails. I was afraid that the older man intended me to enter into the sauna
with nothing but a towel on. That would never do. Now I can be fully covered
and be color coordinated.
I grabbed an
appropriately sized cover up and changed. I took a fresh towel off of the stack
by the door to the shower area and then stepped back out in the hallway leading
to sauna. To my surprise, the older man was still standing just at the bottom
of the stairs. Apparently he was waiting to make sure I didn’t sneak in with my
jeans on. He had his arms crossed over his chest which made the 5 long grey
hairs stand up. He looked at me sternly and asked, “What is your grandmother’s
name?”
“Margaret
Tennyman,” I answered.
His face
immediately softened. It was then that I noticed the drip of sweat that was
rolling down his neck to his chest. He must have gone into the sauna before
meeting me at the stairs.
“You’re
Margie’s granddaughter? She talks about you often. She is one of the best
people. Period.”
My
grandmother had been quite the burden lately due to her grief. It was strange
to hear someone say that about her. I knew that she wasn’t a bad person but
that she was a handful. Even the center staff would tell me that she had
trouble following direction to the point of endangering herself. I loved my
grandmother but I was struggling with her. And I had my own grief over the loss
of my grandfather to contend with.
I mumbled
out a short, “Thank you,” and tried to move past him to go up the stairs. He
stepped in front of me and looked me in the eyes.
“You be
gentle with her. Try to understand.”
I was
startled. Trying not to show it, I said, “Yes, sir.”
He then let
me pass. I opened the door and received a blast of hot air on my face. It was
so steamy in there that I had trouble seeing. Then I heard her voice.
“…one of the
happiest moments of my life. There she stood with her trophy hugged to her
chest and smiling so wide you could see all of her missing teeth. I can see it
like a photograph in my mind. That adorable blue dress with the pink flowers
just made her blue eyes sparkle...”
As she
continued her story, I realized that she was talking about me. She was telling
the story of when I won my 3rd grade talent show. I had sung a song that my
mother used to sing to me when she would rock me to sleep.
“…I was so
proud that she had inherited her grandfather’s musical ability! My! Kenneth
could sing! I believe that’s when I fell in love with him, when he sang to me.”
“Grandmother?”
I heard
another voice answer as my eyes began to adjust. “Margie, is this her? Your
songbird?”
“Jessie?!
What are you doing here, honey? Dribble some more water on the stones and then
come over here and sit next to me.”
I did as I
was instructed and then told her, “Grandmother, you had me worried. You
disappeared as I was talking to the girl at the front desk.”
The older
man from the stairs sat down across from us and responded, “Kaylie is a nice
enough girl but she sure can make someone drowsy from how long it takes to
finish all her paperwork.”
As I looked
around the sauna I saw four people in addition to my grandmother and myself.
The sauna guard, who I later learned was named Ernest, a very plump woman with
dark grey hair named Lucinda, a tall skinny woman with her long salt and pepper
hair pulled into a tight bun named Lynn, and a small petite woman named Pearl.
The woman who asked if I was my grandmother’s songbird was Lucinda.
“Oh dear,
you shouldn’t have worried about me. I know everyone here and everyone here
knows me. This is the safest place I could be, besides with my Kenneth.”
Everyone
else nodded their agreement with this statement. Then as if she wasn’t
interrupted, my grandmother continued to tell about the regional competition
that 3rd grade me won with the song, “The Sun’ll Come Out Tomorrow.” She very
clearly described the red curly wig I wore and how many bobby pins were
required to keep in on my head over my thick brown hair. Grandmother described
the glow of pride on my Grandfather’s face as he watched me perform. As she
told the story I recalled how my grandfather lifted me up in the air to twirl
me around saying, “Good job, Honeybee! That’s my girl!” My grandfather was
always so strong. I didn’t think that anything could stop him, especially not
cancer. The cancer came on so quick and by the time that he was diagnosed, he
only had 8 days left on this earth.
I began to
cry softly. Because of the darkness of the room and the sweat that was now
pouring down my face, no one noticed.
Lynn then
reflected on her sister. Lynn told us that her sister, Jane, would make the
best pies and that Lynn had convinced her to enter one of them into the county
fair’s contest. Jane, who loved to make pies, actually entered a pie in every
category, and won each one. Lynn laughed as she shared that Jane was
embarrassed because she thought everyone would be convinced that she cheated somehow.
Lucinda, who
had laughed along with Lynn said, “I bet you sure miss those pies.”
“I sure do.
It’s probably one of the things that I think of daily since I lost her. It’s a
good memory so it doesn’t get me sad like some of the times that I think about
her. What I would give to taste her chocolate cream pie again. She got the
balance just right: not to light and not to dense. Oh! I think I just made my
stomach grumble!” She chuckled as she rubbed her abdomen.
One-by-one,
each shared a story about a loved one that they had lost. Lucinda spoke of her
mother and the way that she would braid Lucinda’s hair so tight that she would
have to skip recess for having a headache. Pearl shared how her best friend and
she would try to convince the boys to let them play stick ball with them. Pearl
said that one day her and Peggy dressed up like boys and tricked the boys into
believing that they were new in the neighborhood. When Pearl and Peggy out hit
every boy there, they took off their hats to reveal their true identities and
it caused quite a ruckus. Ernest even shared how his wife and he used to go
dancing every Friday night. Ernest said that she was admitted to the hospital
for the last time on a Saturday and they had gone out dancing the night before.
Finally,
Lucinda turned to me, “What about you, songbird? Do you have a story to share?”
I was taken
aback. During the whole story-telling, I just viewed myself as an observer not
an actual participant. Once I got over my initial shock, it wasn’t difficult to
find a story to tell.
“When I was
5 years old, I wanted so badly to take the training wheels off of my bike. My
dad, who was never really in the picture because he had to work all the time,
couldn’t teach me. My grandfather was very eager to see me without the training
wheels so he volunteered as soon as he heard my complaint. He took me to the
garage and we took out my bike. I still remember, it had a pink and white
basket with streamers hanging off of the handles. He got his tools and took the
training wheels off. He tried to explain how to ride a two-wheeled bike but I
must have made a face because he jumped on my tiny bike and started wheeling
around. He looked so silly with his legs sticking out from the sides. I giggled
as he rode around. Finally he stopped and said ‘Hop on.’ He held it as I got on
and walked with me down the driveway to the sidewalk. He turned the bike and
asked me if I was ready to try. When I nodded he pushed the bike but didn’t
move his foot so I rode right over it. I fell before he even let go mostly
because I was laughing at running over his foot. I kept laughing as he hopped
up and down, holding his foot, acting as if I had rolled over it with a
steamroller. He was always goofing around like that. Every time I take my bike
out on the trails, I think of that day and smile.”
I looked at
my grandmother and she was smiling. She patted my arm and said, “That was a
great memory. You didn’t know it but I was watching from the window ready to
bring out a Band-Aid. I should have known better. It would always take nearly
losing a limb before you would cry over a boo boo.”
Ernest
suddenly said, “Wait a minute, doesn’t Margie have an appointment to get to?”
I haven’t
seen my grandmother look as happy as the time she spent in that sauna with her
friends. All this time I thought my grandmother was retreating from the world
and reality when all she needed as a place to relive her good memories. I’d
been disconnecting from her as she tried to grieve and I was too caught up in
the technical aspects of grief that I couldn’t grieve myself. How silly of me
to think that grief could quench her spirit. True it is with great sadness that
she, and I, must transition from experiencing my grandfather to reliving
memories, but it’s in reliving those memories that he still lives. In that time
in that sauna, I began to understand my grandmother in a whole new way.
Suddenly, she didn’t seem like such a burden, but rather a comrade through a
trial.
“No,” I
answered Ernest. “I believe she got everything she needed here.”
