Sara Etherington


     I feel as though I sometimes have my life completely figured out.  But then something causes a massive rift, such as a boulder thrown into a small pond.  Then life is churning around waiting to settle once again.  As I dodge the boulders crashing down upon me, my eyes gaze around at the surroundings I call home.  Pictures of friends and family are taped around covering the cement walls of my dorm room.  These pictures remind me of the past experiences that I have had: homecomings, weddings, parties, and loved ones.  A photo taped to the wall swings lazily, hanging on for dear life with a single piece of tape.  It fights the will to give in to the sharp gusts of air that whistle as they emerge from the air conditioner.  It has yellowed with time, the smiles are slightly distorted from spots of white by fingers trying to feel the faces nad bring them into reality.  This picture captured a moment lost to time.  I remember this day vividly.  Gramps was teaching me how to climb a tree and ended up catching me when I fell out instead.  My grandmother had been there to snap a photo of the event.  My hair was waving wildly in the wind as we both flashed mischievous grins, mine being a smaller replica of his. Gramp's strong arms were hoisting me up in a celebratory fashion.  He stood very tall, arching his shoulders back, his heal held high with pride, the image of a strong man with the will to match.  But if one looked closely, his eyes did not match his memorable occasion they were cold, clear nad left the impression of emptiness.  I wanted to know what he was thinking about at that moment, if perhaps by any chance it might have been me, or was he thinking of lost days that would never be returned?
     The last time I ever saw those hollow eyes was in the eighth grade.  It now seems longer than six years ago, I would have done so many things different if I would have known the future.
     I had tripped up the front steps to my house struggling under the weight of my book bag and the new JcPenny's catalog.  My mouth had been watering, anticipating devouring the mint girl scout cookies that I had stashed away from my sister.  Opening the screen door I dodged the pesky flies nad I happened to galnce at a form sitting on the porch swing.  A raspy voice came from out of the shadows, "So how's the eighth grade treating you? I bet your father gets irritated from boys calling you all the time."
     "Holy hell, Gramps you scared the crap out of me."  Emotions flooded my body as I tried to rationalize that it was indeed my grandfather sitting on the swing.  "Gramps, what are you doing? How did you get here? Does dad know?"
     "Seeing you, plane, and yes.  Does that answer your questions correctly?"
     I dropped my bag and the catalog and walked hesitatnly over to him.  I gave him a quick hug and a kiss to reassure myself that it really was him.  Hearing my dad's car drive up I knew tha our time together would soon be gone, because the air was already growin tense due to the arrival of confrontation.  Taking a big breath, words started flowing fast from my lips.  "Gramps I just want you to know that no matter what I love you nad will always be here.  Please try to stay in touch in case I can do something for you."  My eyes ran and I suddenly found it hard to breathe, there was something in my throat, it felt like a rock.  I wanted to say more, but no matter how hard I tried to swallow, it would not budge.
     "Thanks kiddo, love you too.  Don't believe all the bad stuff you hear about me, I was once a pretty fun grandpa, wasn't I.  Remember the time I caught you when you fell out of the tree?"
     All I could do was nod my head.  My dad's heavy footsteps came closer and closer to invading our time together.
     "Hey, are you going to let all the flies into the house?  Close the door, tell Gramps goodbye and go to your room."
     "But dad. . ."
     " Go now."
     Everything stopped, the air had gotten so thick that I had to force myself to breath.  My head turned to scan my grandfather's reaction, hoping that he would convince dad to let me stay. But then i realized that my once proud Gramps was no longer the strong man I had envisioned him to be.  He was worn down, his head hung in shame nad his strong will had long disappeared. My eyes traced over his leathery hands that were once powerful, but were now disguised by a bluish tint from the varicose veins protruding from his skin.  The gray sport coat he wore hung loosely to his shoulders which caved in to reveal a shirt and tie.  His pants had deep creases running down to his shoes which were covered heavily with what seemed to me was a red dust from Mexico.  I tried to grasp on to every detail so that I could have a mental picture of him forever.  I started at his face but could only focus on his familiar eyes.  They were exactly how I had remembered them, except they had slowly sunken under the weight of life nad died. Jumping to attention as my father irritably yelled my name I turned and walked inside, but glanced back to see Gramps blowing me a kiss.  I stood waiting to receive it on my cheek, but it never came.
     Once inside, I bolted for the kitchen grabbed a glass and headed for the nearest window. Deciding that the glass against the window did not really increase the ability to hear, I gave up nad focused my attention to my father's gestures towards my grandfather.
     Tears spring to my eyes as the phone jolts me back into the present.  I grab the phone only to be irritated by another lady mistaking my number for that of Presbyterian Manor nursing home. "283" I yell, "this is 284. You have to dial 283." and hang up.
     Gramps had taken a wrong road in life, just as everyone else seemed to find the right one. He had divorced my grandmother on a whim and left everyone's emotions on an everlasting spin cycle.  I can't determine the exact date that I knew something in the air had changed, a boulder had fallen.  Gramps quit the family real estate business nad had decided to spend his retirement funds at the local hole in the wall bar.  After many run ins with the police Gramps had a decision to make, did he spend his jail time for numerous DUI offenses or should he disgrace the family and become a fugitive.  I didn't see him the day he fled but found out when the police put a warrant out. Rumors flew through our small town, but we held our heads up burying our emotions until we could escape to the dark rooms of our home.  To my parents and sister, Gramps was gone and there wasn't to be any discussion.  He was now the bad seed of the family, which came to great relief of my dysfunctional aunt.  She had her fill of being ignored due to numerous false accusations of mental abuse towards my grandmother, nad was now ready to hand over the black sheep's crown.  I was filled with questions about Gramp's situation, but found that making up answers was easier than hassling my parents, they only gave unknowing looks nad quickly provided subject changes.  Finally everything was forgotten and life returned to its boring normal self.
     It was not until two years later that I heard from my beloved Gramps again.
     "Hello."
     "This is the operator, would you accept a collect call from George in Mexico?"
     "Yes" I had mixed feelings about talking to Gramps there were so many questions that I wanted answers to.  For instance why he decided to leave us.  But decided to ask him later.  This later never came.
     "Hello? Lauren, Cara."
     "It's Lauren, Gramps."
     "Hey kiddo, I thought that I would call to wish you happy birthday.  Sorry that I missed it, but February is such a busy month so I figured calling in March was better than nothing."
     "It was in January."
     "Let's see you must be what, twelve, thirteen?"
     "Try sixteen Gramps."  I thought that it was ironic that he had forgotten how old I was, but I guess that everyone forgets how quickly time passes.
     "Sorry honey, I guess that my memory's not as good as it used to be huh?  So how are you, any boyfriends?"
     "Yes, but it's nothing special, tell me about you Gramps are you okay?  I heard that you have remarried."  I did not reveal the fact that I found this out by stealing one of his letters from my father's desk.
     "Yes, wonderful girl, she's younger so she certainly keeps me on my toes."
     I bet she does because the letter stated that she was a mere twenty-eight to his seventy.  " That's good I'm glad you're happy."
     "So did you receive any birthday money?"
     "Ya, around a hundred."
     "Well that's another reason I called, your old Gramps is a little short on pesos.  Your dad hasn't sent any lately.  Do you suppose that you could help your Gramps out a bit?"
     I felt used, but yet I didn't want to disappoint him.  "Sure Gramps, I'll see what I can do."
     "Thanks, well I'll let you go, because I know that your father doesn't appreciate these high phone bills.  So take care I'll keep in touch."
     I hung up the phone and realized that Gramps wasn't the hero that I wanted him to be. But a regular guy who made mistakes.  The waves in my small pond were churning violently from another boulder.
     The years passed along with numerous holidays.  Our family lived on trying to forget the past.  Gramps was never mentioned except when old family friends would inquire about his whereabouts.  We all tried to  talk around this subject especially dad.  My father has liked to talk about Gramps I guess because it is easier to pretend that he is dead than face the embarrassment of a fallen limb on the family tree.  When I questioned my sister Cara, about our grandfather she would ignore my probing.
     I still tried to find out any bits of information that would give me a glimmer of insight into Gramp's life.  Letters were confiscated from the trash and secret coves hidden in my father's desk.  Through this I found out as much information as I could. The letters always requested money to be sent to support his new family and never asked about how his old family were doing.  I just figured that his new children had taken the place of his grandchildren.
     My senior year of high school dad came to talk to me.  Since we rarely had father-daughter talks, I knew that something important had happened.  He explained to me that Gramps was dying and the doctors didn't think that he was going to make it to the end of the week.  His visit was an invitation to accompany him to Mexico to say our goodbyes.
     I can't remember the exact emotions that I felt, but for some reason I did not feel like that
it was my place to be.  Gramps needed my father there more than me.  I had said goodbye before, there was nothing else to say.  The coldness that my family felt for him had overcome me also.
     My grandfather died later that week. His funeral consisted of family and friends gathered to pay their respects.  I was relieved that he was remembered as an upstanding citizen in the community.  It was as if the mistakes that he made were all forgotten.
     There are times that I think about Gramps and regret the fact that I did not make the trip to Mexico.  I miss the closure that I could have had with him.  There were so many things that I should have said to him before he died.  But hopefully, where ever he is now he know that I love him and am desperately trying to carry on his memory.