Authors: Brian MacLearn
As she walked away, I couldn’t resist and said, “What, no ice cream?” Grandma stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face me.
Staring me down and using her best irritated voice, she said, “I’ll give you ice cream all right,” and then we both broke into laughter. I know she was curious about where I had been, but she didn’t want to ask. I told her that I’d been up to the tree and that tomorrow I would begin working on my heart. I could tell
she was lost in her own thoughts, as her eyes looked past me at some imaginary scene.
Turning her back towards me and facing the kitchen counter, Grandma Sarah said softly, more to herself than to me, “I can’t wait to see it when you’re finished.”
The rest of the day, I felt more like a zombie, drifting from place to place with no real motivation for anything that I did. It had taken me all of twenty minutes to pack everything I needed for the undertaking ahead. After ten additional trips to the basement to unpack and repack, I finally conceded to my anxiety and decided to take a walk downtown. I had lived here all my life, and yet, as I walked around town, the only memories surrounding me were the ones recently made with Allison. Everywhere I walked I would recall a moment Allison and I shared, the three-legged race in the park, the baggy war and my night on stage, during the town fair. It felt like she was here walking beside me, like she had so many times before. She had returned to me a feeling of peace, one missing for quite some time. I knew deep within me that she and I were forming a very special bond. She was a part of every thought and feeling within me, and I understood that I was a better person for knowing her. Like the song proclaims, she was my once-in-a-lifetime love.
Chapter 20
As the sun rose early the next morning and began its stealthy foray into my bedroom, I shook myself awake and out of a restless night’s slumber. In my dreams, I had carved the heart majestically on the tree, only to see it destroyed by a bolt of lightning. In another overly vivid dream, a menacing tornado swooped down on the tree and lifted it far up and into the sky. I watched from two sets of eyes, the
me
in the dream and as the observer who could look on the scene from any view. The tree spun violently around and around in some mad version of the washing machine from hell. The once steadfast tree of Murphy’s meadow withstood all the tornado could dish out and, just when I started to hope it would somehow miraculously survive, I watched it explode into oblivion. A few scattered pieces began to rain down on the dream version of me.
I wasn’t sure if the dreams were a premonition of things to come or just the concern I had about trying to make the heart so perfect. The fear of not being able to measure up to what my grandfather and father had done was taking its toll on my subconscious. I looked over at the alarm clock on the table and it read five-fifty-eight. I didn’t bother taking a shower. I threw on my painting jeans and sweatshirt and rummaged around in the closet until I found my favorite Iowa Hawkeye’s ball cap. I grabbed my sunglasses off the dresser and made my way out of the bedroom and down the stairs. I was trying to be as quiet as I could to avoid waking up my grandparents.
The surprise was on me instead. I could smell the aroma of coffee wafting upstairs from below and my stomach did an instant belly rumble as my nose caught the scent of fresh bacon being fried in the kitchen. I followed my nose and strode into the kitchen to see Grandpa busy at the stove, stirring the scrambled eggs with one hand and using a fork with the other hand to flip the bacon. On cue, the toaster on the table dinged and four slightly burnt pieces of toast jigged their way to the top. The table was set for two people, and I had a feeling my grandma wasn’t one of them. I headed to the coffee pot, saying, “Good morning,” to Grandpa’s back as he continued diligently with his breakfast preparations. He turned to smile at me then went back to flipping bacon.
After grabbing a cup from the cupboard and pouring myself a long pull, I took one sip of the coffee, if you could call it that. It was more like popping that one bitter-sour grape in your mouth after experiencing only the sweet ones over and over again. I let out a “shhwoo” to which Grandpa’s response was a devious chuckle. More prepared for the taste, I blew across the top of the cup and took as big of a sip as my mouth would let me. I rolled it around inside my mouth, enjoying the texture and strong taste of the coffee. This time when I swallowed, I gave Grandpa the famed, “now that’s a cup of coffee.” We both laughed at our little inside joke. For the last year, Grandma had been diluting the coffee with decaf and making it taste no better than flavored water. To compensate for this blasphemy, whenever Grandma was gone, Grandpa would fill the coffee filter full and run the coffee through the grounds twice before we both enjoyed our ultimate pick-me-up. Grandpa, and to some extent Grandma, had hooked me on coffee early in my life. At first I packed it full of sugar and cream, until I graduated to full connoisseur, drinking it straight black.
I sat down at the table, three steps ahead of Grandpa Jake as he followed me over carrying two large plates of scrambled eggs and bacon. He set one plate in front of me and the other one across from where I sat. He headed back to the coffee pot and refilled his cup and then carried it and the pot over to the table. There would be just enough left in it to fill my cup once more. We ate in silence; the only noise audible to anyone listening would have been the frenzied scrape of our forks against the plates as we inhaled, rather than ate, our breakfast. Both of us finished at nearly the same time, and I raised my eyes to meet his. He was leaning back in his chair, the coffee cup firmly held with both hands, his eyes looking over its rim at me. I readied myself for whatever talk was about to come. Mimicking his posture, I took a sip from my cup and nodded just once as a sign that I was ready.
He took another drink from his cup and, after swallowing, cleared his throat. I sensed what he was about to say would be profound if nothing else. I learned early on that my Grandfather could tell some stories, but he spent most of his life as a reflective listener. When he was so moved he would take me somewhere, or like today, find a way to make sure we were alone and then, in his own way, impart the advice he felt necessary to convey. Like any adolescent, at first I tried to ignore him, but his words always found a path to my brain. There they would stay until sufficiently tossed around and around. Sometimes, the inherent meaning was lost on me, only to be fully understood at the precise moment when they were most needed. When my father had vacated my life, I didn’t want to hear anything that Grandpa had to say, because it meant dealing with a situation I would rather forget. He never treated me as anything but an adult, even when I was nothing more than a kid. Today, for some reason, this thought became forefront in my mind. I understood I not only wanted to hear what he had to say, I was also especially glad to have someone like him in my life.
I watched Grandpa Jake as he set his eyes on me. They weren’t really seeing me. Whatever he was about to say was going to come from deep inside his mind, and he was still getting his thoughts wrapped around it. If I had gotten up and left the room, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have noticed. I waited for him to start in his own sweet time. With a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth I knew he was going to begin…
“Jason, if maturity were only measured in years, the world would be an easy place to live…kids would always be kids and old people would know when it was their time to step aside so the younger ones could take over…thank God the world doesn’t operate that way. By me saying that, I can’t help feeling that some things in life shouldn’t ever have to be. No youngster should ever have to take on the anguish of adulthood before he’s ready to. In fact, I don’t think you should have to ever be an adult if you can get by with it.” At this comment he let his eyes fix firmly on mine and smiled.
“Every culture and place is different, but the children should be protected wherever they are and given the opportunity to see the fun side of life…reality will come all too soon, anyway. I know you’re wondering what I’m trying to get at. I know it’s an old cliché that no one should ever have to put his child in the grave before himself, but it rings true. Your mom was as close to me as any child could ever have been. Not a day goes by that I don’t see her or hear her singing in my mind. Sometimes, I catch sight of a lady who looks like her and, for an instant, I feel my heart race with excitement only to feel the anguish all over again. As angry as you are with your father, I still love him and pray for him to find the guidance, to someday heal the pain he has inside and repair the damage inflicted upon his family.
“The one thing that has appeared out of the events of the past, for which I will never be sorry, is this wonderful chance I’ve been given to be more a part of your life than I otherwise would have been. To be both a grandfather and a father figure for the second time has been more rewarding than you will ever know, but only because you have made it easy for both your grandma and me. These last few years have allowed me to act younger than I am and fulfilled my life beyond all expectations. I know you wonder if this old man has a point in here somewhere. I think I do, but I have so many thoughts rummaging around in my head, I’m sure it will be passed over and lost in the wind.”
I wasn’t sure if I should interrupt Grandpa or not, when he got going, it was almost always best to let him get it out and be done with it. I stayed quiet, and he drained the remaining coffee from his cup. He gently set it out of the way and readjusted himself in his chair, until he found a comfortable speaking position. This time, he didn’t look directly at me; instead, he let his gaze drift out the window by the table. He held it steady, and what he was seeing had nothing to do with what was outside the window.
“Who’s to say what makes a man or when we can officially call ourselves an adult? Some folks never seem to grow up and others grow up too fast. Age isn’t the thing; it’s much more than just a mindset, too. I wish there was a timeline where we could measure progress, but there isn’t. Some of us have the common sense borne into us, and others don’t ever have an understanding of the world around them, and they never will. What I see when I look at you is a readiness, the need to be in charge of your own makings and wanderings.”
Grandpa looked away from the window and let his eyes rest somewhere behind my shoulder. I stayed still and tried to read his expressions. Whatever he had to say he was doing so with more than a little difficulty.
“Commitment to yourself is one thing, and commitment to someone else is altogether different. It can be easy to fool yourself once in awhile, but you’ll never make it trying to fool those around you for very long. It would be easy for me to sit here and tell you that you and Alison are far too young for the commitment you are preparing to jump into, but I’d be judging you on age and nothing else. I see the signs in the two you that were in me and also a part of your father. Men are too often judged by what they have done and not by the heart they possess. If not for heart, there would be nothing to live for, no dreams, no desires, and no commitments. Jason, you are chucked full of heart, and so is
Allison
. You two may lack age and experience, but anyone with a heart’s eye can see the bond the two of you share. Your path may not be clear of obstacles, but I believe, and so does your grandma, that together, you two might just be something special and most certainly deserve to walk along the path of destiny together.”
I felt my heart try to make its way out of my throat. Many a night I had lain upstairs
,
when sleep was a fleeting thing
,
and wondered many of the same thoughts my Grandpa Jake presented me with this morning. Were Allison and I, or more precisely me, ready to face the commitment we were heading toward? To hear Grandpa tell me that he thought of me as an adult and that he felt the same aura around Allison and me that I did was more than just a comforting thought. It was a blessing on his part and an acceptance of my personal rite of passage into adulthood. I would never again think of myself as a kid, and neither would my grandparents think of me as such.
Grandpa continued on. “I think everyone should be told once in their lives they are respected and believed in…ready and prepared to take the steps into the world of adulthood with all the trials and tribulations that will undoubtedly come along with it. I know you will always keep the magic of youth in your heart and mind. Without it, adult responsibilities can begin to weigh on you and make you old before your time. The heart is key, Jason; you have to find the ways to fill it with as many happy memories as you can throughout your life. That first kiss…” Grandpa turned a crimson shade of red as he said this. I don’t know if he was thinking about his and Grandma’s first kiss or if he was talking about mine. Catching his breath, he went on, “…the first time you hold your child or much later in life hold your grandson.” He looked at me as he said this, and I could tell his words were more than just words; they held a truly deep meaning and place in his heart. I was suddenly overwhelmed by his sincerity and doing my best not to completely break down. My reaction was having an effect on Grandpa as well, and it was obvious we both needed a moment to regain our composure. Grandpa Jake stood up from the table, picked up his plate, and headed for the kitchen sink. I took my cue from him and did likewise.
He ran hot, soapy dishwater and grabbed the plates and skillet, along with a rag to wash them with. Neither of us said a word, comforted by the silence without speaking and content within the moment of just being together. I opened the towel drawer, dragging out a clean one to prepare myself for my half of the clean-up process. After everything was washed, dried and put away, Grandpa took one last opportunity to say his final thoughts. I had my back to him as I felt his hand rest gently on my shoulder.