Right at this moment, I faced the hardest challenge of my day: the closet. Even though it appeared that my closet was stuffed with a never ending supply of clothes, I just could not find anything to wear for the upcoming dance festival today. It was going to be very hot and sunny today, so I needed something that would protect me from the sun but still be trendy and not uncomfortable in the blasting heat.
“Ugg what should I wear...” I said out loud, muttering to myself. This was gonna take awhile.
“Brooklynnn!!” A scratchy voice exclaimed from a corner of my closet.
Wait what?? My head was swirling. I stopped believing in monsters in my closet a long, long time ago, and yet, here I am, suddenly a believer again. I did not just imagine that. Something definitely called my name from inside that closet. Scared out of my mind, I started to back up, unsure of what to do: should I run, should I... answer? “Hello?” I replied with uncertainty.
As if making me jump out of my skin isn’t enough, a lump of... something, looking somewhat human, rolled out of my closet and collapsed right in front of me. I choked back a scream, frozen from shock and confusion.
“OOF!” ‘It’ huffed, complaining from the tumble. Looking up and finally showing ‘its’ face, I finally recognized the monster in my closet: my grandma?!
“Grandma Pat?? What are you doing here? Why were you in my closet??” I frantically asked my Grams these questions but she ignored them. Instead, she raises up a hanger that I had not noticed in her hand before. On it is a tank top--which was surprisingly cute-- that was definitely not mine (oh no, my grandma’s?!) but one that seemed perfect for the festival.
“Try this on, sweetie,” she said, passing the hanger to me, “There ya go, honey.”
The tank top was light pink, with a crochet pattern and then a knotted fringe at the bottom. I would be able to easily pair it with some jean shorts and my new floppy hat!
I looked up with awe. “Thanks, Grandma!” She nodded, smiling. Realizing all of the weird events that just occurred, I bursted out laughing. My grandma joined in. Still chuckling, I told my grandma: “Grandma, you can’t just hide in my closet!”
“Oh honey, I’ve done weirder things,” was all that she replied, saying so with a straight face. She sure was right. My crazy grandmother once had a showdown at a Jewel Osco! One time when I visited my Grandma Pat at her house, she told me the story of her “Battle of the Carts” at the grocery store.
Apparently, Grams was just minding her own business, strolling down the freezer aisle, picking up some foods here and there. When she reached the end of the aisle that went into the open area of the store, a random lady with her cart suddenly came into view, with her trying to turn into the aisle that my Grandma was already in. Even though there was enough room for both in the aisle, the lady bumped into or “rammed” as my Grandma said, into my Grandma Pat’s cart. Instead of apologizing, the lady tried to keep on going. But my Grandma did not let her through. My grandma rammed her cart right back with a look on her face that said, “Yeah, I went there.” Grandma then calmly walked away, looking smug.
I chuckled, remembering that memory. Looking back up, I was in shock once again. My grandma disappeared. Poof. Looking wildly around my room, and even in the closet, my grandma proved to be gone.
A couple months later, standing in front of my closet once again, deciding what to wear to school, I thought back to that moment in my room, in front of the closet. I remembered shaking off the fact that my grandma was hiding in my closet and waiting for me to ask for outfit advice and simply focusing on having a fun time at the dance festival. It was a perfect day, sunny and warm, with the light bouncing around just like the energy of the crowd. After the fun, however, I had asked my parents and my sisters if they had seen Grandma Pat that day, but they all looked me like I was crazy. I had started to ask myself, Was I crazy? Did I really just imagine that strange, yet bonding, experience with my grandma? I had to go back to the ‘scene of the crime’ and investigate every detail to figure out what really happened.
Now, I realize, my little tale of seeing my Grandma appear was all a lie. Stressing out so much about needed to find an outfit, my brain had blurred the line between reality and fantasy. I had come up with that conversation in my head, pretending that my Grandma Pat was my fashion savior, my fairy grandmother. I had actually come up with that outfit all by myself, and with that special tank top actually mine, just hidden in the debris of all of my other clothes.
Wow. Crazy, right?
THE END