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“Hey Grandma!” I said walking into the small but cozy house. I admit, it did stink just a little, but it smelled like old people. I sighed as I carried in the pops my mom had picked up from the local McDonalds. My grandma gave me a kiss and a hug and held the door open for my mom who came in and stomped the snow off her feet.
“It’s cold outside?” Granma asked with a slight laugh.
“No mom, it’s just eight degrees and a below zero wind chill factor.” My mom said taking her coat off and setting it on one of the many chairs in the living room. I sat down on the couch and sighed. It had been a long week, and such a short weekend. It was Sunday and I didn’t want to go to school tomorrow.
“So. Anything new?” My grandmother asked as she sat down in a tiny recliner.
“Nope.” My mom and I say in unison. Well, actually a lot has been going on, just nothing I’d tell my mother or worse my grandmother. In my mother’s eyes I was a perfect angel, still thought boys were yucky and wasn’t in love with her best friend who never noticed her anymore now that he got his new girlfriend.
“That’s nice, nothing new here either. Same old stuff, it’s so boring.” She said picking up a news paper from beside her chair. I knew it wasn’t today’s from the headline. I glanced at my mom who didn’t notice.
“Do you care if I do a little laundry here? Our machine at home is broken.” My mom asked.
“No, go ahead.” My grandma said. My mom carried in the clothes and walked out into the back room where the washing machine was. My grandma sighed and looked up at me.
“So anything new?” She asked. I smiled small.
“Nope.” I replied.
“Oh nothing going on here either.” She said and straitened the paper she had in her hands.
“Wanna go check and see if there’s any mail?” My grandmother asked.
“It’s Sunday gran, the mail doesn’t come one Sundays.” I said pulling a few school books out of the book bag I had hauled in.
“Oh, I knew that.” She said smiling and went back to her paper. A few minutes later she looked up at me.
“Anything new?” She asked. I swallowed back the pain.
“No grandma.” I said smiling. I went back to writing down my answer to number four on the reading homework I had.
“Nothing here either, it’s always so gosh darn boring.” She said. I nodded. I could hear my mother in the back room loading the washing machine. I was wishing she’d hurry because it was a little awkward without her. We didn’t speak. I heard the heat kick on and I closed my book finished with that assignment.
“Anything new going on with you missy?” My grandma asked. I wanted to say ‘Not much since the last ten times you asked me,’ but I didn’t it wasn’t her fault. My mom came in and sat in the chair next to me from the couch and sighed.
“Anything new?” My grandma asked her. I glanced at my mom who shook her head.
“Nope.” She said calmly. My grandma got up and left the room to use the restroom. I glanced at my mom who simply smiled at me small. My grandma came back a few minutes later and let the dog she has out from the room she uses as a bedroom. The dog was one of the most annoying dogs I’ve ever met. It would jump up onto your lap, it’s a large dog that weighed at least 90 lbs. I closed my eyes and the dog made a beeline for me. It jumped up and licked my face. I pushed it off me and sighed. I hated that dog. It ran over to my mom and began smelling her legs. My grandma walked to the door and let the dog out. She walked back to her chair and picked the same news paper up and re-read it. I glanced at my mom who didn’t notice once again. Suddenly she turned to my mom.
“Will you talk to your brother?” My grandma asked. I wanted to close my eyes and hang my head in my hands. My grandmother thinks that my uncle stole a bowl that was given to her by my great grandma before she died. The bowl’s real, but the bowl she describes isn’t it. The real thing is in a box packed away in the attic.
“Mom, Kit doesn’t have your bowl.” My moth sighed.
“Oh yes he does, I was sitting right here it was beside me and he came in took it and went to his car and put it in the trunk and when he came back in he wouldn’t give it back.” She said. I closed my eyes. This happened a lot it was nothing new, but it still doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. My mom stood up.
“Mom, why would he steal the glass bowl you’re talking about?” My mom asked.
“Because it’s worth money.” My grandma said.
“Mom, the purple bowl grandma gave you is worth money they bowl you says he took isn’t real. You’ve never owned one.” My mom said.
“Yes I did! My mom gave it to me right before she died not too long ago.” My grandmother said.
“Mom, grandma died 35 years ago.” My mom said.
“Oh it hasn’t been that long.” My grandma laughed.
“Yes, mom Larry, was three.” My mom said. Larry was my thirty-eight year old brother.
“No, she just died last year.” My grandma said. I tried to not look at my mom. Well at least now she admits she’s dead. A few weeks ago my grandma had called my house at midnight wondering if my great grandma was okay. She had fallen down the stairs out at her house two weeks ago and she was afraid she didn’t make it. It was a rough night that one. My mom explained my uncle hadn’t been down to her house alone in more than two years because every time he comes down she always accuses him of stealing something. Soon my mom had sorted everything out, well some of it anyway, my grandmother still thinks he stole her bowl. While we were waiting for the clothes to dry my grandmother glanced up at me.
“Wanna go check the mail for me sweetie pie?” She asked. My mom chipped in.
“Mail doesn’t come on Sunday’s mom.” My mother said.
“Oh right, I knew that. I was just testing her.” She said smiling. I stood up and walked into the kitchen for something to do. There were unclean dishes in the sink and there were empty food containers in the fridge. I threw the empty containers away and walked back into the living room. My mom stood up and walked into the kitchen no doubt checking the same stuff I had just checked. She came back in with the pill box my grandma used for her medicine that divided it up into days and mourning, noon, and night.
“Mom, you have taken any of your mourning pills all week.” My mom said.
“I take a pill every mourning.” My grandmother said.
“Mom, you can’t have, the mourning pills are all filled up!” My mom said showing her the pill box. My grandmother sighed.
“I take a pill every mourning.” She said insisting. My mom kinda growled to herself.
“Mom you couldn’t have!” She said. My grandmother continued to insist up and down she takes he pill every mourning right with her breakfast. I zoned out. I hated listening to everything that happens. I glanced up at the picture of my grandpa hanging on the wall.
“I wish you were here grandpa, I wish you could help her.” I thought to myself. I handled the rest of the visit. When we were leaving I could help but being relived and I felt awful for it. I was praying to god the hole way home that one of these days she wouldn’t open the door and look at me as if I was a stranger. I prayed she wouldn’t forget who I was.