Just Write

I’m a big fan of The Extraordinary Ordinary because of how beautifully she writes. I love the idea of trying to capture those weighty everyday moments without a lot of explanation. This is my attempt at Just Write.

I go into the living room to talk because it’s the one part of the house where calls don’t drop. The cat follows me. He probably thinks I’m talking to him. He’s 18 but he’s never used a phone before.

My little girl comes in next with a blanket, her new baby doll and a plastic tube of tiny knights she got on our trip to New York City. She lays the doll and blanket on the floor and lines up the knights on the keys of a 1978 Wurlitzer organ we rarely use and knocks them down with a green dragon, one by one.

I am talking to my grandmother on the phone. I had thought up many reasons not to call. I’m tired from our trip. I mailed her a mother’s day card and gift. I’ll call tomorrow. None of them beat the voice that waited patiently until the Brady Bunch episode with Peter’s terrible volcano was over and insisted Call Now.

My grandmother is 86 and does most of the talking. I know from phone logs that we usually talk for an hour, give or take 10 minutes. She tells me a lot of the same things each phone call and I’m not sure if this is because she forgets or thinks I forget.

She brings up things that happened a long time ago, like that time another family member got drunk and said terrible things three Thanksgivings ago. I was even there for it, but I know not to interrupt or argue the details because once I lost my patience and made her cry. She hung up on me and I felt like a drowning person must feel in that final moment when panic changes to relief but it’s still the end. Of course I called her back to apologize. Let’s start over, I said. She’s my grandmother.

For the 51 minutes we talk on the phone, my little girl comes and goes out of the room to watch bits of America’s Funniest Home Videos and report back to me.

A boy just pooped on a girl’s shoulder! she whispers in my non-phone ear and then steps back to watch my response. I raise both eyebrows and make an O with my mouth and think what kind of pea pickin’ show are they watching anyway. Later I realize she said bird, not boy.

My little girl climbs on my lap and gives random hugs and quiet I love yous and then rolls herself up in a blanket and lays so long and still at my feet that I am sure she’s fallen asleep.

The last five minutes of my phone call are me trying to find the exit. My phone battery is dying and l tell her and she says Just wait a minute and tells me what her mechanic said about her car battery. She also says And another thing, just like they do in the movies. My grandmother fled her Soviet occupied Baltic state when she was a young woman and still speaks with a heavy sing-songy accent that I found soothing as a little girl.

In the end, I am saved by a raccoon. One minute my grandmother is telling me what her mechanic told her and the next I hear her rapping on glass to scare off a raccoon that is washing his paws in a water dish she keeps on her back porch for the birds. No wonder that water is so dirty! she says.

The raccoon’s presence has boosted her mood and she tells me she is happy I called. We say goodbye and I feel something loosen inside me. I go upstairs to plug in my phone to charge and my little girl follows me upstairs like a puppy wrapped in a blanket with a sprinkle of freckles across her nose.

My daughters and I in Battery Park. (Puppy on the left.)
Advertisements

18 thoughts on “Just Write

Add yours

  1. 3B
    This one I love. I don’t know what you did different, I like this voice … a lot. I love all your posts though. Somehow the flow had me drawn tightly. Beautiful picture and a belated Happy Mom’s Day.

    Like

  2. Raccoons, puppies and a new post from you always put me in a good mood. Well maybe not the raccoons, if we’re practicing rigorous honesty, because we had one in Georgia that was the size of a pony, not as a pet, more as a vagrant, and the crafty critter always got into every nook and crannie looking for food, plus he would eat the catfish off of our fishing lines we would leave out, and just leave us the bones, but I digress.
    Like Sherry, this made me smile! More please!
    Hope you had a blast in NY!
    xoxo, C

    Like

      1. Bwah-hahaha! Look Mom, I brought you a kitty! Can we keep it? Huh? Huh? Can we keep it? Pretty please? I will love him, and hug him, and squeeze him, and I will call him George.

        Like

  3. Enjoyed your piece and always look forward to your writings. Thanks very much. Small factoid (interesting word coined by Norman Mailer around the time The Brady Bunch aired) for ya. Bobby Brady in real life went on to have a successful business career in computer stuff and in 2005 at the age of 48 married a young lady aged 23. Sadly they have since divorced. Here’s a John Sebastian cover circa the ’60’s dedicated to Bobby for thinking he could pull something like that off. Hope the trip was fun. Thanks again Killer B’s.

    Like

      1. I’m glad you corrected this. I saw Peter and his then wife on TV some years back and it turned me on him. Bobby, I’ve found, is new favorite. I think he became a race car driver. Oh wait, that was just in one of the very brady reunion specials from the 90s.

        Like

    1. That drowning line may have made more sense before I took some other stuff out. I still wanted to keep it, though. Definitely encourage you to try the exercise some time. I really enjoyed writing that way.

      Like

      1. oh yeah, I agree about keeping it. vivid line. but the way you described drowning, now it’s just one of those descriptions/images that going to sit in the back of my mind forever.

        Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: