Long Road Home
It was the soft silver streaks in her hair that captured my attention. I paused for a minute, looking at her wrinkly hand, dangling and appearing limp.
Gran sat in her recliner chair, motionless.
The droopy, creased bags underneath her eyes almost appeared frozen onto her face. Her eyes were closed gently, and I wondered if she was daydreaming of standing on soft clouds.I wiggled her shoulder, and she didn't move.
I sucked on a dry breath; the air around me felt clammy, like a corpse. Gran wore a blue floral dress, and her apron was tucked tight into her body. Trembling, I glanced into each corner of the room, afraid to be alone.
I turned, looking at the dinner plates placed on the table. Each plate rested on top of a cheerful sunflower placemat. Those sunflowers were smiling at me, their bright petals looking hopeful. A little teapot was placed near plastic plants on the table, and I peered at Gran again. Gran's curious stillness reminded me of our dead horse lying in the paddock a few weeks ago, appearing to sleep. My heart raced, unable to think clearly, and shaken with thoughts of death.
’Granny!' I wailed. 'Gran!'
The cat tip-toed into the kitchen, looking at me with a knowing glance. It meowed so ear-piercingly.
I shuddered, not knowing what to say.
Mona, my twelve-year-old cousin, who appeared taller than me, walked past Gran into the kitchen. She wore denim overalls with holes in the knees, which I thought were hardly trendy. Her hair glistened a shining redness in the kitchen light as she gulped down a glass of water.I stood in front of Gran, staring at her apron.
I was unable to talk or look at her weathered face anymore. My 'denim-wearing cousin' thudded out of the kitchen, her big boots hitting the floorboards. She hummed, appearing preoccupied with the fruit on the table. I found myself dazing up at her freckled face splashed with freckles. Each freckle appeared as an explosion of stardust onto her face.
She glanced at Gran and said, 'Gran's having a nap.
'Sleeping?' My mouth twisted and turned with doubt and horror.
Gran's closed eyes looked peaceful, and I wondered if her soul was floating above the clouds. I thought that Death may have torn open her heart and stopped it from beating.But was Gran dead.
Saliva nearly choked my throat. For seconds, the air surrounding me almost suffocated me with its staleness and hint of dry toast. I could not see Death hiding anywhere, but I knew it lurked in the dry, dusty air.
Gran's closed eyes symbolised that her spirit was not returning home. She had died.I'd lost the hugs from Gran, the hot meals, and her soothing words. Now they would bury her in a ditch. Covering up my memories of Gran forever. My throat felt sore and dry, hurting me.
I itched with panic, knowing those memories were gone. I could've stayed watching limp, old Gran, but my scared, trembling legs nearly collapsed. In a panic, I bolted outside.
The door crashed behind me as I left.
My feet pounded against the dry, gravel road as I ran. While the little pigtails wobbled aside my ears, jiggling as if sensing my fright.
At the end of the driveway, the long metal gate stood rigid. I heaved it open, looking back at our home, Gran's death now seeming real. The greyed clouds gathered over our house in circles. Those clouds were like fluffy portals, sucking Gran's soul out of her in the cottage. I needed more memories of Gran to keep me feeling safe before my parents returned home.
Drips of rain started to fall onto the earth. I held my hand up to gather rain, and droplets wet it. Death now threatened me with rainfall, mocking my memories.
The sun crawled beyond the trees, hinting at nightfall. My sight darted up and down the road; I had hoped to head to Gran's run-down shack. I wanted to touch Gran's collection of old memories before darkness fell.
I continued running until my legs were wobbling and plastic-feeling. My aching legs slowed into a walk as I near Gran's shack close to the road. Its veranda, green and crumbling, looked so inviting.
Gran had told me never to go into her old hut, as spiders were spread throughout its rooms. But Death had forced me to enter the place to seek memories of Gran as I felt alone now.
Pushing onto the blue wooden door; it creaked and let me inside. Old grimy furniture was scattered on the floors while mice scampered through the door's gap into the grassy fields. I drew a huge inhale, coughing on the dusty building's air. Cobwebs were stretched across the windows and draped over the furniture.
Photos dangled against the walls of Gran, greyed and still intact. The furniture had rips, and the lounge appeared crinkled with age.
A shadow loomed in the room, appearing as a darkened mist. I squirmed but somehow felt at peace amongst Gran's memories. The fog moved and hovered over a doll, and the darkness evaporated.
The doll sat on a small pine chair, swamped with dustiness. The doll appeared whitish and ghostly like Gran's face, so emotionless too. On its cheeks, little clouds of pastel pinks were surrounded by whiteness.
I remembered Gran sitting in the kitchen, looking so vacant. The smell of toast was fresh, ready to butter on the table. Gran would slowly turn to stardust like the splashes of freckles on Mona's face.
I saw old Pansies growing near the porch through the hut's door. Their brightness threatened me to go home and take the doll with me. While birds settled on the roof, their little footsteps scratched against the tin.
I picked up the doll and mumbled cooing sounds at it. I softly touched the doll's dark but cobweb-ridden hair; its porcelain cherub lips invited me to kiss them with love. And I did.
Gran's love for me came flooding back. Her sweet flowery scent lingered in the air as I sniffed. While I imagined her tucking me in bed at night and tenderly kissing my forehead. She was still with me, all her memories trapped inside this doll.
I stared down at the tiny lips on the plaything. And I thought the doll curled her lips upwards at me.
