Goodbye, White

On By Alicia McCauleyIn The Junk Drawer4 Comments

Labor Day is here, banishing white pants to the back of the closet for another season.  Well, I don’t own any white pants, ’cause my bottom half just doesn’t need that level of attention, so instead I’m writing about other white things that have come and gone.

Goodbye white lace on the baby pillow my mom stitched for me.  I loved you until you were dirty tatters framing the yellow gingham,  Come to think of it, goodbye white stuffing that filled the pillow and in the end came out in puffy lumps through the hole where I loved that pillow too thin.

Goodbye white stephanotis corsage that I wore to a junior prom.  You were so much more beautiful than the red roses all the other girls wore.  Good riddance to the boy that gave me that corsage and didn’t ever talk to me again because I wouldn’t smoke a joint and sleep with him.  Wait, not even good riddance to him.  Just riddance.

Goodbye Saturday morning sweetmilks with mounds of snowy powdered sugar spooned in the middle.  This isn’t so much a goodbye as it is a “See you later on a lazy winter morning.”  I will wipe powdered sugar from my lips and remember wiping my mouth on the corner of Grandpa’s “Kiss Me, I’m Norweigan” apron.

Goodbye white seashells washing ashore in the shadows of the pier.  I keep you in a jam jar on my night stand, remembering the day I last kissed my grandmother.  I can’t wait to walk barefoot in the sand and gather more shells for my jar.

Goodbye white wedding dress, all boxed up on the top shelf in my closet.  I take you down every now and then and blow the dust off the front of the box.  You made me feel like a princess on our wedding day.  You were spotless and new and so was I.  One day I will work up the nerve to free you from your box and wear you around the house.  Until then, wait for me with your satiny train all tucked in.

Goodbye blackberry blossoms, bursting white among the thorns.  It’s time for you to rest, time to pull fall’s burgundy blanket up to your chin as the earth breathes a sigh of relief.  It’s Labor Day and the laboring is done.  For now.

What’s Right In My World

On By Alicia McCauleyIn The Junk DrawerLeave a comment

“Celebrate what’s right in the world.”  This is the mantra of DeWitt Jones, world-renowned photographer.  I heard him say it a couple of weeks ago and it keeps circling in my mind, flashing behind my eyes.  And so today I am celebrating what it right in my world.

-My husband snoring next to me in bed.

-Dragonflies twittering at the purple blooms of my butterfly bush.

-The river, always the river.

-Cutting through the surface of the lake on days like this:

-The smell of newly sharpened pencils, waiting to etch out stories pent up in the brains of five and six-year olds.

-The spin of my legs on my pedals as my heart keeps time.

-The smell of Terry’s neck.

-The book of James.

-The mercy of God.

-Reading on the last Saturday of summer vacation.

-Empty desks waiting to be filled with eager little bodies.

Dear Nike Chalkbot,

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures, Letters2 Comments

Dear Nike Chalkbot,

Thank you for making the Tour de France route the best thing I’ve read all summer.  And that’s saying something because I read some fantastic books.  But you, Mr. Chalkbot, have inspired me.

You gave me a voice during a time of grief.

You told me that I was not alone in my loss.

You helped me rediscover my belief in miracles.

You reminded me that hope is stronger than illness and death.And reminded me that love is strength.

I’ve never known a robot as wise or as filled with compassion.  I hope you find many roads to write on in the future because I love reading what you have to say.  Keep rolling strong, Chalkbot.

Love,

Alicia

Dear Granny Panties,

On By Alicia McCauleyIn LettersLeave a comment

Dear Granny Panties,

Thank you for covering my, uh, real estate when an unexpected gust of wind lifted my skirt all the way up my back.  Your vast expanse of fabric kept me from experiencing yet another humiliating underwear incident.  I am profusely grateful, as are the other people walking into the grocery store at that precise moment.

Love,

Alicia

Letter #7: Your Voice

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters to Gramma2 Comments

Dear Gramma,

Today I woke up in the small morning hours and wandered out to the living room.  The house was cool and dark and I tapped away on my computer, writing in the stillness.  All the windows were open and the croaking frogs were the perfect metronome to my words.  When I was done, I crept back into bed as Terry was getting ready for work.  I drifted off to sleep for one last precious hour.

In that snippet of morning sleep, I dreamed that our family was having a party.  It was a backyard party with crisp white tablecloths snapping in the breeze.  Aunt Nancy poured some sort of exotic soup into bright white ramekins.  She filled one too full, and soup dribbled over the edge, seeping into the tablecloth like a tea stain.

My mom and I set the tables and I stopped for just a moment to watch Terry.  He sat near the grass and looked so handsome.  He didn’t see me sneak a peek.  You always told me he just gets better and better looking with age and I couldn’t agree more.

You arrived at the party and came up from behind me, putting your arm around my waist.  I put my arm around your shoulder and kissed your cheek.  It was so soft, like the cheek of a baby.  You said “Hi, honey.”  Your voice was so clear.  In my waking hours I have trouble recalling the particular lilt of your voice, the rhythm of Texas buried under years of California.  But in my dream your voice was so familiar, so filled with love.

In my dream you had cancer, but it appeared you were undergoing treatment.  I asked you “How are you feeling?”  You squeezed my waist and said “Much better.  How are you feeling?”  I laughed and said “I’m feeling fine, Gramma, just fine.”  You said “That’s good.” and patted my bottom twice, like you always did.  I have no idea why you always patted my bottom like that.  Was it because I’m so tall and you were so small?  Is that all you could reach?

There was music in the background and Uncle Jon and Aunt Jill danced close together on the patio.  Hayley was mortified until Katie pulled her on the dance floor.  Katie wore a gorgeous, dark pink dress that made her rosy cheeks even more striking.  Katie and Hayley danced and laughed.  Everyone laughed with them.  You and I stood there, your arm still around my waist, my arm draped around your shoulder.  You leaned into me, just the slightest little bit until your hair was touching my chest.  We watched them dance and we were so happy.

You turned to me and asked “Is everyone here?”  Before I could answer, I woke with a start back in my own bed.  I gasped for air like I was breaking through the water’s surface after swimming down deep.

My dream hung around me like gauzy sheets and as I sat up in bed, I realized my alarm hadn’t gone off.  I swung my legs over the edge and for a second my mind convinced me that my dream was real, that your cancer was responding to treatments.  That you were indeed feeling better.  That you were still here.  My feet touched the carpet and I realized it was not real, that it was just a dream.  A cruel dream that left tear drops on my shirt as I got dressed.  The dream looped in my mind, always stopping when you asked “Is everyone here?”.

In the unforgiving light of day, I answered your question.  Everyone is not here.  And today that thought has seeped into me, leaving me stained with sadness.

I love you, Gramma.  Come talk to me in my dreams again soon.

Love,

Alicia