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Tips & Rants / Untitled { I honestly have no idea what to call this }
« Last post by Maggie on April 02, 2019, 01:19:02 pm »A/N: Had a strange dream this morning. I literally just woke up about an hour ago and had to write it. I've no idea if I'll ever add to it or leave it as is but I had to get it out. I have no idea what the heck to call it but I would like to dedicate it to you as my cousins will never see it. *hugs* P.S. You may need a tissue or ten. I did when I read it back to myself. This isn't edited in any way shape or form so all of the mistakes are my own.
Almost all stories begin with four famous words, Once Upon a Time. Even the really sad ones. A
“Are we there yet?”
An irritated small voice sounded from the very back of large black tank like car that was currently barreling down a desolate back country road. The windows were **** letting just enough of the balmy night air into the car for it's occupants to know that summer had well and truly arrived to the tiny town of Cavish. A sedate little map dot that was filled with lush rolling hills and woodland. Crickets and peepers could be heard every so faintly just behind the rumble of engine of the vast black car with it's shining leather seats. Three boys sat almost comfortably on the large backseat in what looked to be height order. The tallest boy, Christopher, was staring out blankly at the woodlands every so often a huff sounded from him as he tried his best to blow the flopping bangs out of his eyes only to have them flop right back into place. He hadn't said a peep in nearly three days, highly unusual for the eldest Webb brother. The middle a dark haired boy of ten with deep dark eyes and a serious expression looked directly ahead trying to make sense of why they had to move clear across two states to live with their Nana. Dennis, or Denny as he was called was absolutely positive that they could have stayed back home and taken care of themselves. The third, and smallest was Sammy who had his large blue eyes cast upward at the night sky in a never ending search for the stars. His Uncle George who was in the Navy had taught him all the constellations and told him that if he found the North Star he was always headed in the right direction. If he saw a star streaking across the sky that meant he would get a wish.
“But don't wish on every single shooting star that you see, Sammy. That's just bad form, other people need their wishes too. Perhaps keep it to three the first go around, huh?”
This was number three. Clutching his battered teddy bear his tiny face squashed up against the glass fogging it slightly he whispered ever so quietly to himself.
“I wish Mama didn't have to go away. I wish she was at Nana's house waiting for us.”
Sammy's wish had been overheard by his Nana. Marta Croucher was stout little woman with wiry gray hair that was almost always pulled into some semblance of a high bun. Despite her coke bottle glasses and stern hairstyle she was a warm person with an impish face that made her look much younger than her sixty-one years. The boys had always loved her visits back home in Rockland, their former home two states away but now, going to Nana's house seemed like a scary chore and less like an adventure that their Uncle and mother had made it out to be.
“We've still got to get through town and then it's about twelve miles out. You'll know when we get there. Every Croucher does.”
Humming to herself she cut the wheel a little too sharply and a thunk of a Mason's Catalog slipping slightly out from the pile she was currently perched on broke the three boys from their thoughts. Without a word Chris scrambled over the seat and pushed the book back into the pile rightly much to his grandmother's relief. She noticed that he hadn't climbed back over to sit with his brothers. Perhaps he would finally say something.
“But we're not Crouchers, Nana. Our last name is Webb.”
Sammy asked as his inky dark curls swiveled around to catch his grandmother's gaze from the rear view mirror. For some reason he had forgotten to ask her why she had a crow's foot on a string hanging from the mirror but had thought better of it. Nana Croucher was known for doing things just a little bit differently from the rest of the world. Including tying wooden blocks and sitting on phone books and catalogs topped with a dainty lace pillow so she could actually see over the steering wheel, was just one of them.
“Ah, but you've got Croucher blood in you. You'll see when we get there. Count the stars, Sammy. Let me know when you can see the the Big Dipper.”
Turning her attention she heard a sniffle from the middle of the seat. Denny had his eyes cast down to the floorboards his cheat heaving.
“Penny for your thoughts, Denny.”
“I wanna go home.”
“We'll be there in a few minutes, I promise.”
Silent tears fell down the boy's cheeks as he sniffled and ran the back of his hand over his eyes. Silently Chris reached over and handed Denny his last clean cotton hanky without another word which Denny took with a look of thanks. A torrent of tears averted for now the quiet din came over the car's occupants once more. The only sounds were of the rumbling engine, crickets, peepers and the radio which was almost always tuned to the one station that came in, CCAT, the local station that played everything from radio shows to new Big Band music from far off places like Chicago and Los Angeles.
“If you want to talk, Chris you know I'm here.”
Christopher considered his options. Sit and stew and have thoughts rolling around in his head like marbles or get it out in the open. He knew his grandmother meant well but it just wasn't the time. Maybe it never would be, maybe he was supposed to carry this around with him. Did every grown up have this bone deep hurt deep deep down inside of them? To his grandmother's surprise and much more so to his own he spoke. Voice raspy from from being used in nearly a week he spoke.
“Talking won't bring Mom back. We could have stayed with Uncle George.”
Nana thought this over for a moment, true, they could have stayed with her eldest son, but with his location changing every two years the boys wouldn't have had time to set down roots. Not the kind of roots her youngest daughter had wanted for her sons. Ettie had wanted the boys to know the sound of a summer storm and the feel of the crisp autumn air, the smell of spring that only Cavish held and most of all she wanted them to know the place where she and her brother had grown up. It had been a simple childhood for them but a magical once none the less. Marta, of course agreed as did George for it was only right that Ettie get the final say, the illness had already robbed her of so much so quickly that the least they could was grant her one final wish with what she felt was best for her children.
“Y'know your Uncle George would have given his eye teeth to have you with him but he'd have had to stow you away in his sea bags. Well, except maybe Sammy. He could have gotten him onboard in a ditty bag.”
Chris let out a small chuckle at the thought and stopped. He wasn't supposed to be laughing. Not now. Maybe not ever again. But the image of his little brother crammed in with Uncle George's socks and bar of soap clutching his teddy bear was too much. The laughter soon took a turn, as they often do during times of grief. Tears rolled down his cheeks and Chris as almost positive that he would never ever stop crying which made him cry even harder until he felt a hand on his back. Sometime during his crying they had reached the house. Denny and Sammy had fallen asleep huddled next to one another at some point, the events of the last week finally taking them over.
'It should have taken longer than that to get here.'
He thought as reached over to give his Nana a hug. She wasn't his mother as no one on this earth could ever replace her but for the first time in nearly a year the wobbly feeling in the pit of his stomach had stopped wobbling. His body went slack against her as he cried the rest of his tears out into the lilac print of her flour sack dress.
“I just want her back.”
“We all do, love. We all do. But she's not really truly ever going to be gone. Not as long as you carry her in your heart and in your mind.”
“That's what Uncle George said but...what if I forget her? Not all of her just how her voice sounded or what color her eyes really were? Or what her perfume smelled like.”
“Close your eyes.”
Wide brown eyes beneath blonde bangs stared back at Marta.
“Humor me. It'll help.”
In the stillness of the car the eldest Webb boy sat with his eyes closed for a moment.
“Now, what's the first thing you think of when you used to hear her voice?”
“Birds. Songbirds.”
“What about her eyes?”
A blush krept over Chris's cheeks at the thought.
“Honey. Not the yellow kind that you get in the squeeze bear but the other kind. The deep amber one that she used to buy from Mr. Davidson's shop on Fifth street.”
Smiling in spite of herself Marta continued.
“Now, her perfume?”
“Wildflowers. A whole big huge field of 'em.”
For the first time in nearly a year Marta saw a ghost of a smile cross her eldest grandson's face. She let him revel in for a moment.
“Now, you feel that warm feeling in you chest right now?”
“Yeah.”
“That's your mother. She's always right there. When you hear the songbirds or see that amber honey or smell those wildflowers that's her. Always there with you and she's never truly gone.”
A moment passed then two followed by three. Christ had settled and the light came back into his eyes.
“Thanks, Nana.”
“You're welcome my dear. Now, what say you give your old Nana a hand getting your brothers inside? Weatherman said we might be getting rain sometime tonight and my legs just aren't what they used to be.”
Herding his sleepy younger brothers along as he carried two suitcases from the trunk Christopher thought he saw something from the front porch of the sagging weather beaten Victorian that sat ahead of them. It seemed odd that the house had once been so opulent from being out so very far from town. But Chris thought that maybe whoever built it just wanted to be different as so many in his family had been. Another flash caught his eye and the closer he got the more he could see something. No, someone. It wasn't Nana because she was behind him toddling along on bad knees and all but keeping Sammy upright. No, this woman was willowy and dressed in something different than flour sack cloth. There in the moonlight he saw her. His mother was standing on the front porch and she was waving and her lips were moving. What was she saying? Wind rustled the leaves of the oaks that lined the property line.
'I love you.'
Almost all stories begin with four famous words, Once Upon a Time. Even the really sad ones. A
“Are we there yet?”
An irritated small voice sounded from the very back of large black tank like car that was currently barreling down a desolate back country road. The windows were **** letting just enough of the balmy night air into the car for it's occupants to know that summer had well and truly arrived to the tiny town of Cavish. A sedate little map dot that was filled with lush rolling hills and woodland. Crickets and peepers could be heard every so faintly just behind the rumble of engine of the vast black car with it's shining leather seats. Three boys sat almost comfortably on the large backseat in what looked to be height order. The tallest boy, Christopher, was staring out blankly at the woodlands every so often a huff sounded from him as he tried his best to blow the flopping bangs out of his eyes only to have them flop right back into place. He hadn't said a peep in nearly three days, highly unusual for the eldest Webb brother. The middle a dark haired boy of ten with deep dark eyes and a serious expression looked directly ahead trying to make sense of why they had to move clear across two states to live with their Nana. Dennis, or Denny as he was called was absolutely positive that they could have stayed back home and taken care of themselves. The third, and smallest was Sammy who had his large blue eyes cast upward at the night sky in a never ending search for the stars. His Uncle George who was in the Navy had taught him all the constellations and told him that if he found the North Star he was always headed in the right direction. If he saw a star streaking across the sky that meant he would get a wish.
“But don't wish on every single shooting star that you see, Sammy. That's just bad form, other people need their wishes too. Perhaps keep it to three the first go around, huh?”
This was number three. Clutching his battered teddy bear his tiny face squashed up against the glass fogging it slightly he whispered ever so quietly to himself.
“I wish Mama didn't have to go away. I wish she was at Nana's house waiting for us.”
Sammy's wish had been overheard by his Nana. Marta Croucher was stout little woman with wiry gray hair that was almost always pulled into some semblance of a high bun. Despite her coke bottle glasses and stern hairstyle she was a warm person with an impish face that made her look much younger than her sixty-one years. The boys had always loved her visits back home in Rockland, their former home two states away but now, going to Nana's house seemed like a scary chore and less like an adventure that their Uncle and mother had made it out to be.
“We've still got to get through town and then it's about twelve miles out. You'll know when we get there. Every Croucher does.”
Humming to herself she cut the wheel a little too sharply and a thunk of a Mason's Catalog slipping slightly out from the pile she was currently perched on broke the three boys from their thoughts. Without a word Chris scrambled over the seat and pushed the book back into the pile rightly much to his grandmother's relief. She noticed that he hadn't climbed back over to sit with his brothers. Perhaps he would finally say something.
“But we're not Crouchers, Nana. Our last name is Webb.”
Sammy asked as his inky dark curls swiveled around to catch his grandmother's gaze from the rear view mirror. For some reason he had forgotten to ask her why she had a crow's foot on a string hanging from the mirror but had thought better of it. Nana Croucher was known for doing things just a little bit differently from the rest of the world. Including tying wooden blocks and sitting on phone books and catalogs topped with a dainty lace pillow so she could actually see over the steering wheel, was just one of them.
“Ah, but you've got Croucher blood in you. You'll see when we get there. Count the stars, Sammy. Let me know when you can see the the Big Dipper.”
Turning her attention she heard a sniffle from the middle of the seat. Denny had his eyes cast down to the floorboards his cheat heaving.
“Penny for your thoughts, Denny.”
“I wanna go home.”
“We'll be there in a few minutes, I promise.”
Silent tears fell down the boy's cheeks as he sniffled and ran the back of his hand over his eyes. Silently Chris reached over and handed Denny his last clean cotton hanky without another word which Denny took with a look of thanks. A torrent of tears averted for now the quiet din came over the car's occupants once more. The only sounds were of the rumbling engine, crickets, peepers and the radio which was almost always tuned to the one station that came in, CCAT, the local station that played everything from radio shows to new Big Band music from far off places like Chicago and Los Angeles.
“If you want to talk, Chris you know I'm here.”
Christopher considered his options. Sit and stew and have thoughts rolling around in his head like marbles or get it out in the open. He knew his grandmother meant well but it just wasn't the time. Maybe it never would be, maybe he was supposed to carry this around with him. Did every grown up have this bone deep hurt deep deep down inside of them? To his grandmother's surprise and much more so to his own he spoke. Voice raspy from from being used in nearly a week he spoke.
“Talking won't bring Mom back. We could have stayed with Uncle George.”
Nana thought this over for a moment, true, they could have stayed with her eldest son, but with his location changing every two years the boys wouldn't have had time to set down roots. Not the kind of roots her youngest daughter had wanted for her sons. Ettie had wanted the boys to know the sound of a summer storm and the feel of the crisp autumn air, the smell of spring that only Cavish held and most of all she wanted them to know the place where she and her brother had grown up. It had been a simple childhood for them but a magical once none the less. Marta, of course agreed as did George for it was only right that Ettie get the final say, the illness had already robbed her of so much so quickly that the least they could was grant her one final wish with what she felt was best for her children.
“Y'know your Uncle George would have given his eye teeth to have you with him but he'd have had to stow you away in his sea bags. Well, except maybe Sammy. He could have gotten him onboard in a ditty bag.”
Chris let out a small chuckle at the thought and stopped. He wasn't supposed to be laughing. Not now. Maybe not ever again. But the image of his little brother crammed in with Uncle George's socks and bar of soap clutching his teddy bear was too much. The laughter soon took a turn, as they often do during times of grief. Tears rolled down his cheeks and Chris as almost positive that he would never ever stop crying which made him cry even harder until he felt a hand on his back. Sometime during his crying they had reached the house. Denny and Sammy had fallen asleep huddled next to one another at some point, the events of the last week finally taking them over.
'It should have taken longer than that to get here.'
He thought as reached over to give his Nana a hug. She wasn't his mother as no one on this earth could ever replace her but for the first time in nearly a year the wobbly feeling in the pit of his stomach had stopped wobbling. His body went slack against her as he cried the rest of his tears out into the lilac print of her flour sack dress.
“I just want her back.”
“We all do, love. We all do. But she's not really truly ever going to be gone. Not as long as you carry her in your heart and in your mind.”
“That's what Uncle George said but...what if I forget her? Not all of her just how her voice sounded or what color her eyes really were? Or what her perfume smelled like.”
“Close your eyes.”
Wide brown eyes beneath blonde bangs stared back at Marta.
“Humor me. It'll help.”
In the stillness of the car the eldest Webb boy sat with his eyes closed for a moment.
“Now, what's the first thing you think of when you used to hear her voice?”
“Birds. Songbirds.”
“What about her eyes?”
A blush krept over Chris's cheeks at the thought.
“Honey. Not the yellow kind that you get in the squeeze bear but the other kind. The deep amber one that she used to buy from Mr. Davidson's shop on Fifth street.”
Smiling in spite of herself Marta continued.
“Now, her perfume?”
“Wildflowers. A whole big huge field of 'em.”
For the first time in nearly a year Marta saw a ghost of a smile cross her eldest grandson's face. She let him revel in for a moment.
“Now, you feel that warm feeling in you chest right now?”
“Yeah.”
“That's your mother. She's always right there. When you hear the songbirds or see that amber honey or smell those wildflowers that's her. Always there with you and she's never truly gone.”
A moment passed then two followed by three. Christ had settled and the light came back into his eyes.
“Thanks, Nana.”
“You're welcome my dear. Now, what say you give your old Nana a hand getting your brothers inside? Weatherman said we might be getting rain sometime tonight and my legs just aren't what they used to be.”
Herding his sleepy younger brothers along as he carried two suitcases from the trunk Christopher thought he saw something from the front porch of the sagging weather beaten Victorian that sat ahead of them. It seemed odd that the house had once been so opulent from being out so very far from town. But Chris thought that maybe whoever built it just wanted to be different as so many in his family had been. Another flash caught his eye and the closer he got the more he could see something. No, someone. It wasn't Nana because she was behind him toddling along on bad knees and all but keeping Sammy upright. No, this woman was willowy and dressed in something different than flour sack cloth. There in the moonlight he saw her. His mother was standing on the front porch and she was waving and her lips were moving. What was she saying? Wind rustled the leaves of the oaks that lined the property line.
'I love you.'
she would love that to pieces. I hope you and your muses know that she would dote heavily on their child and smother them with love and no doubt gifts at ever opportunity she got. 
He much prefers to let Colleen take over in that department but when he does open up he's quite poetic about his views on life. Thank you so so very much for the encouragement and I'm still so happy that you enjoyed it! 
