Remington Harris
Remington Harris
"See, it's easy, Grandpa. You just sit and type and call me if you need help. "
"But I only type with one finger at a time! Giselle? . . . "
Oh, well. I have all afternoon.
I'm not very good at these computery bloggy things. Daisie Mae was the writer in the family, and I was never as well educated as she was, but I knew Rosie first, and I knew her longest.
I hated cleaning dorms. Even your gloves won't keep the ik out from some of the things you have to clean up in a dorm. But when Miss Goodytwoshoes called up the maid service and I came out to the Landgrabb dorms, I knew right away that she wouldn't be any trouble. Big, big blue eyes, and ringletty blond hair, and I'm sorry to say it, helpless. The way she stared at showers as though they cleaned themselves would break your heart.
Well, of course I was happy to help her, and she tried so hard, always reading books on how to clean and cook. She didn't talk much and when she did, it was all simple things about how much she wanted to get married and have a family. It was nice to hear her and not at all the way young girls talk nowadays.
When she graduated and married straight out of school, she asked me to keep helping around the house. I don't know how she and Shane ever afforded to pay me. I think sometimes they were one paycheck ahead of an empty refrigerator, and of course she was always staying home with the babies.
Miss Rosie always used to joke with me about how I ought to get married and have a family of my own. She teased me that she'd make sure I married a nice girl if she had to raise her herself. At least, I thought she was teasing, but Miss Rosie didn't joke or tease, especially not about things like that. And all the time, when I was picking up toys, there was Daisie Mae, with her mother's big blue eyes, looking at me, so serious. Rosie thought she should have been blond and dyed her hair from when she was little. She probably had beautiful black hair, only I never got to to see it . . .
Daisie Mae was so much smarter than I was. I don't know how or why she picked me. I know she was so tired before we got married that she got sick, and I had to move in to take care of her until she got better. I know all the babies were so hard on her, but I loved them. I was so happy when a new one came that I never even thought.
I'd come into the office where she was typing away, and I'd bring a cup of coffee or something and smile at her, and she'd look up at me. So serious. Just letting her know I loved her somehow, the way you do. And I wondered what she was writing. I never read it. I'm not much of a reader.
But now the girls are at school all day and Sunny and Publius are at the businesses and the cats can look after themselves, and I thought I'd finally read Daisie Mae's book.
I didn't know she felt like that. She was so serious and quiet, my Daisie Mae, that she never said it out loud. And she's gone, and I guess now I'll never hear her say it. Now I'm so old and I'm sitting at her old desk with the screen zoomed up extra large. I probably couldn't hear her even if she were right in front of me. But I thought I should let someone know, somewhere, somehow.
"Giselle?"
"What, Grandpa?"
"Where do I hit the button?"
"Just a minute, Grandpa! Can I read it first?"
****
Giselle Goodytwoshoes stopped for a moment to hug Grandpa Remington. Too thin. Too fragile. He was fading away, already half to wherever it was Grandma had gone, and she couldn't stop him.
And, she thought, her eyes blurring, I wouldn't stop him even if I could.
"See, it's easy, Grandpa. You just sit and type and call me if you need help. "
"But I only type with one finger at a time! Giselle? . . . "
Oh, well. I have all afternoon.
I'm not very good at these computery bloggy things. Daisie Mae was the writer in the family, and I was never as well educated as she was, but I knew Rosie first, and I knew her longest.
I hated cleaning dorms. Even your gloves won't keep the ik out from some of the things you have to clean up in a dorm. But when Miss Goodytwoshoes called up the maid service and I came out to the Landgrabb dorms, I knew right away that she wouldn't be any trouble. Big, big blue eyes, and ringletty blond hair, and I'm sorry to say it, helpless. The way she stared at showers as though they cleaned themselves would break your heart.
Well, of course I was happy to help her, and she tried so hard, always reading books on how to clean and cook. She didn't talk much and when she did, it was all simple things about how much she wanted to get married and have a family. It was nice to hear her and not at all the way young girls talk nowadays.
When she graduated and married straight out of school, she asked me to keep helping around the house. I don't know how she and Shane ever afforded to pay me. I think sometimes they were one paycheck ahead of an empty refrigerator, and of course she was always staying home with the babies.
Miss Rosie always used to joke with me about how I ought to get married and have a family of my own. She teased me that she'd make sure I married a nice girl if she had to raise her herself. At least, I thought she was teasing, but Miss Rosie didn't joke or tease, especially not about things like that. And all the time, when I was picking up toys, there was Daisie Mae, with her mother's big blue eyes, looking at me, so serious. Rosie thought she should have been blond and dyed her hair from when she was little. She probably had beautiful black hair, only I never got to to see it . . .
Daisie Mae was so much smarter than I was. I don't know how or why she picked me. I know she was so tired before we got married that she got sick, and I had to move in to take care of her until she got better. I know all the babies were so hard on her, but I loved them. I was so happy when a new one came that I never even thought.
I'd come into the office where she was typing away, and I'd bring a cup of coffee or something and smile at her, and she'd look up at me. So serious. Just letting her know I loved her somehow, the way you do. And I wondered what she was writing. I never read it. I'm not much of a reader.
But now the girls are at school all day and Sunny and Publius are at the businesses and the cats can look after themselves, and I thought I'd finally read Daisie Mae's book.
I didn't know she felt like that. She was so serious and quiet, my Daisie Mae, that she never said it out loud. And she's gone, and I guess now I'll never hear her say it. Now I'm so old and I'm sitting at her old desk with the screen zoomed up extra large. I probably couldn't hear her even if she were right in front of me. But I thought I should let someone know, somewhere, somehow.
"Giselle?"
"What, Grandpa?"
"Where do I hit the button?"
"Just a minute, Grandpa! Can I read it first?"
****
Giselle Goodytwoshoes stopped for a moment to hug Grandpa Remington. Too thin. Too fragile. He was fading away, already half to wherever it was Grandma had gone, and she couldn't stop him.
And, she thought, her eyes blurring, I wouldn't stop him even if I could.