Another rainy afternoon. Seems to rain
every day. Although some say they’re tired of it, I find it relaxing and enjoy
the wonderful memories it elicits.
I’m remembering one now that is especially
precious to me. As life has changed drastically these past few years, memories of
childhood days at my grandparent’s house, spent with my Aunt Betty, are more
valued than ever. Betty is my mother’s younger sister, making her my aunt, though only
three months separate us in age.
In a two-story house that belonged
to the coal company my grandfather worked for, my grandmother
and grandfather, great-grandma, Betty, her three older brothers and a large black
dog named Shane made their home.
Quite a houseful!
As an only child, spending time
with that large family was exciting, but, in all my best dreams and memories, the
main players are always Betty and me. Odd, how the mind holds onto the most gratifying
images while discarding those that aren’t as important.
***
A loud crash of thunder awakened Betty and me and sent us dashing into a large
closet where we huddled for a while, hoping the rain would go away and the sun would
appear once again so we could go outside. But before it stopped, we got bored
and tired of doing nothing so we started nit-picking at each other. Yelling led
to hitting and kicking and hair pulling and an all-out fight developed before
my grandmother – “Mom” to both of us – stepped in, separating us and sending us
to separate rooms.
“Betty, you go to Grandma’s sewing room,”
she said, “and Peggy, you go in my bedroom. Neither of you are to come out
until I tell you. Maybe some time alone will help you both and, with any luck,
it’ll stop raining and you can go outside.”
It was the late 1940’s. There was no TV in
either of these rooms – and we’d never even heard of a computer or iPhone so it
didn’t take long until we were bored to tears
and were begging Mom to let us come out. “We’ll be good,” Betty said through
the closed door. “Won’t we, Peggy?”
“Yes,” we promise not to fight anymore,” I
whined.
She didn’t give in right away. In fact, she
didn’t even answer our pleas. But, in a little while, she opened both doors and
told us to come on out, but said, “If I have to separate you again, it’ll be
for the rest of the day.”
Lucky for us, the rain had stopped and she
thought it would be okay if we went outside as long as we didn’t get all muddy.
“Just stay in the grass until the sun dries things up a bit,” she said.
“We will, Mom,” we said in unison, as
angelically as possible.
Everything was fine for a while. We walked
around in the wet grass, looking for anything the rain might have unearthed.
Picking up a couple of earthworms, we watched them inch their way up our arms.
This was great fun – for a couple of minutes.
Suddenly, Betty darted several feet away
and said, “Oh, look, Peggy! It’s a terrapin!”
Running over to check it out, I said, “it's
a tortoise, Betty.”
“No it’s not,” she said. “It’s a terrapin!
See, its head is back in its shell.”
“I know,” I said, “but terrapins are usually
smaller and they live in water; tortoises live on land.”
“Well,” Betty said, hands on her hips, “my
brother, Jack, knows all about turtles and he told me the ones that look like
this one are terrapins.”
“Okay, Betty, but I learned about them in
school and it looks like a tortoise to me.”
“Well, you live in the city. You don’t have
turtles in the city – like we do - so you don't know what you’re
talking about.”
That did it!
Betty had a way of goading me until I could
no longer control my temper. I ran toward her like a wounded bull and, before
she knew what was happening, I’d pushed her hard and down she went, sliding
across the yard on the wet grass all the way to the muddy path that led around
the house. There she sat, in the squishy mud, looking surprised.
I giggled. That infuriated her and when she
got up, both hands filled with mud, she quickly took aim and slammed both
handfuls in my direction.
One hit me smack on the side of the head and the other, right in the center of
my chest. Teeth clenched, I started toward her, but was stopped by a strong
hand grabbing me by the arm. Looking upward, I saw Mom – the look on her face frightening.
“Uh-Oh!” I said.
She grabbed Betty’s arm with her other hand
and literally dragged us up the muddy path to the back door. There she stopped,
let us go and said, “Take your clothes off and leave them here on the porch and
get inside! Grandma is filling a tub for both of you.”
We did as she said without uttering a word
and went inside to find Grandma pouring buckets of hot water into a large
galvanized tub. When she was finished, Mom said, “Get in and I’ll scrub your
heads first, then you can wash yourselves.”
Shivering, we stepped out on clean towels.
Mom dried me and Grandma helped Betty. After we were dressed, Mom told us to go
to the same rooms she’d sent us to this morning when she separated us. “I’ll
call you when supper’s ready,” she said.
Sitting all alone, I suddenly felt awfully
homesick! I wasn’t used to Mom punishing me. My feelings were crushed and I
struggled to hold back tears.
After supper, Mom allowed us to
sit on the porch for a while, but before it was fully dark, she told us to put
on our pajamas and go to bed. “You’ve had a busy day,” she said. “You need to
rest up for tomorrow.”
Lying side by side, our small bodies almost
swallowed up by the plush feather mattress Grandma had made years ago, we fell
asleep quickly. My last thoughts were of my home beside the Kanawha River.
***
“Wake up, Peggy! The sun’s shining. C’mon, let’s grab a couple of hot biscuits and go outside!”
Turning over and rubbing my eyes, I said,
“Okay, I’m comin’.”
That’s the way it was. We’d fight until it
seemed that things would never be the same between us again, but after a good
night’s sleep, all was forgotten. All that remained were two young girls who
really loved each other.
And it lasted a lifetime.
***
This afternoon, as I watched raindrops pelt
the birdbath in my yard, those never to be forgotten memories were vivid. But
one thing mars the past that Betty and I share. She has been stricken with
dementia of the worst kind and remembers very little—or so it seems. Yet, when
we have an occasional phone conversation, she always wants to sing to me.
The song: John Denver’s “Take Me Home,
Country Roads.”
Oh, how I wish I knew if those
precious days we shared are still living inside her head like they are in mine!
www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton
www.amazon.com/author/peggytoneyhorton
5 comments:
This is a wonderful story, Peggy! And you tell it so well. Love it!
Love reading your stories. You are an excellent writer. You should write a book about your childhood experiences.
Thank you, Jeanette!
I have two books at Amazon.com about my childhood. "Somewhere in Heaven My Mother is Smiling" and Betty and I wrote one together about our childhood.. It's called "Unseen Angels."
Absolutely beautiful! So sorry about your aunt's dementia. Terrible thing!
Beautiful Peg. I read it twice. It tugs at the heartstrings.
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