Late morning. You just completed a draft of
Brothers 2.2 Add and post. – Amorella
***
The Brothers 2.2 © rho draft
Connie calls everyone to the kitchen to gather their food on a plate,
smorgasbord style, and to take it to the table. Roast beef, carrots, mash
potatoes, peas, corn, green beans plus a tossed salad with an array of
dressings, cottage cheese, a variety cheese pack slices for choosing along with
wheat muffins and rolls. Richard is first in line, following by his three-year
old granddaughter Ronda and Grandma Cyndi.
“Grandpa,
hold me up so I can see,” says Ronda in both a polite and orderly tone little
girl.
“Yeah,”
notes Robert chuckling, “next she’ll want you to fill her plate Dickie.”
Robert,
seeing Cyndi’s frown, says, “What would you like little lady? Your Grandma will
put it on a plate for you.”
“I
want peas and potatoes,” she replies then giggles.
“Peas
and potatoes you will have,” answers Grandma Cyndi clearly.
“Aunt
Connie makes good potatoes and peas,” declares Ronda. “I like green and white.”
“She
always likes the butter on the potatoes and peas,” comments Aunt Connie stirring
the gravy in front of the stove.
“David,
how are you doing young man with your plate young man?”
He
calls, “I’m doing fine, Aunt Connie.”
The
family meanders haphazardly and quietly through the kitchen gathering food to
take to the large oval oak dining room table.
“Do
you want some gravy on your potatoes and peas?” asks Aunt Connie.
“Yes,
but not too much, please.”
“That’s
a good girl,” remarks Robert. “It is very polite to say please.”
“I
know that, Uncle Rob,” comments Ronda. “My mother taught me to be polite.”
“Both
your moms and dads will pick you up after dinner. They are out themselves.”
Connie
looks towards her sister, “Jennifer is always more staid and proper and she is
passing it on to Ronda.”
Cyndi
replies, “I wish she would be more right brained like Julie. Just look at
David.” She eyes her nephew, “David, what do you have going on in your head? I
see a twinkle in the eyes of yours. What scheme are you conjuring up?”
“I
am thinking on a trick to play on Uncle Dickie,” he says.
“What
kind of trick is that my young friend?” responds Richard.
“I
can help you out with that after dinner,” smiles Robert.
“I
don’t need your help, Grandpa. I can think up my own tricks,” replies David
suddenly disgruntled.
“I
guess he told you,” notes Richard.
“Grandpa
and Uncle Dickie are arguing again Aunt Connie,” says Ronda. “You said no
arguing and backtalk at the table.”
“That’s
right,” reinforces Aunt Connie, “they forgot their manners didn’t they?”
“I
told them like you said to, Aunt Connie,” Everyone laughs.
“She’ll
get it down eventually,” smiles Connie.
“Get
what down?” questions David. “I don’t see anything up but the chandler.”
“That’s
a good word, David. I don’t believe I ever heard you say that word before,”
praises Aunt Cyndi.
“That
is a good word, reinforces Grandma Connie.
“Until
you have to spell it,” laughs Uncle Richard.
“Yeah,
wait to you get to school and have to spell all those words you know,” comments
a grinning Grandpa Rob.
“Don’t
get him to dislike school before he’s even in the first grade,” admonishes
Connie.
“I’m
already in school, Grandma. I like school.”
“I
like school too,” acknowledges Ronda. “We sing songs. We learn things and have
good days.”
“I
learned to print my letters two years ago, Uncle Dickie,” says David.
“My
letters are on the iPad,” comments Julie. “I can punch them in my letters game.
I like the music when I hit the right letter.”
Dinner
continues well and Rob and Richard are waiting for dessert while the others
finish up.
Ronda holds up her fingers announcing, “I’m old. I’m four. I will be
seven sooner than later.” She awaits a response of smiles.
“You’ll be five, then six and then seven,” replies Cyndi in Grandma calm
and instruction as she picks up the plates and Connie then brings in the apple
pie a la mode.
“Your
mommy is going to pick you up shortly. You have been a very good guest this
evening,” adds Aunt Cyndi.
David
whines slightly, “I want chocolate not vanilla.”
“Do
we have any chocolate?” asked Uncle Richard in David’s defense.
“We
have raspberry,” comments Cyndi politely. “Would you like raspberry on your
apple pie.”
“I’d
rather stick with vanilla. I don’t like raspberries.”
After
a lull in conversation while dessert was being eaten Connie suggests, “Let’s go
sit in the swing on the front porch and wait for your parents.” And the others
trail along sitting in the white Adirondack chairs lined beside the white swing
for seating three-at-most while Cyndi rids the table of the second set of
dinner styled paper plates, glasses and utensils.
***
After noon and you are back from getting
your hair cut by Mary Ann at Quick Cuts. You consider her your best beard
barber since you were living overseas some forty-four years ago. – Amorella
1255 hours. She is. Mary Ann is a
talent quite good-looking stylist with a wonderfully focused personality and
great memory too. When I walked in she said with a smile, “Hello, Richard. It’s
been nine weeks, are you sure it is time to come in for a hair cut?” She is very
funny. We always have a good round chat about whatever (anything but politics) –
today it was desserts and our September upcoming trip to Toronto and Niagara
Falls. I am supposed to get my haircut/beard trim cut once a month as a rule,
that’s what I promised Carol, but I tend to get it cut the first of one month
and the last of the next. This time I missed it by about a week and a half.
Grandma’s Story 2.2 has over 6300 words so
we have a lot to delete and not much if anything to add when it is complete.
You will probably being going to lunch shortly. Later. Post. – Amorella
You are closing in, boy. Take another break.
You spent time with Carol looking up old addresses where you have lived and
finding them on a site Aunt Ruthie sent you earlier this afternoon. She had
looked up her childhood home at 104 East College in Westerville and it brought
back memories. You did the same, looking up 3128 Minerva Lake Road, Columbus,
Ohio to see the present day house where you lived from when your parents had it
built in 1950 to 1959 when your parents and sisters moved to Cleveland and you
stayed with your Grandparents Orndorff for your senior year of high school.
Later, dude. Post. - Amorella
Mid-afternoon.
You had lunch at Penn Station and are at Kroger’s on Tylersville for
essentials. The rain appears to be over so perhaps time for reading/writing.
And, you have perhaps another errand or two before heading home. – Amorella
1521 hours. We have cut the story down
to 2300 words or so and I’m feeling better about trimming it but there appears
so much to include.
Your interest is peaked, that’s the important
thing here. We’ll trim Grandma 2.2. Remember what you have here, the full
amount of six thousand plus words is already in published Running Through.
What we need are allusions to the names many interested readers would already
know (the ancient royal bloodlines of Europe that trace back to Sarah and
Abraham). The focus here is on Thomas and Merlyn – their relationship. All for
now. – Amorella
1748 hours. In just a bit I have
whittled the words in Grandma 2.2 to 877.
2236 hours. I
completed the draft.
Add and post, boy. Tomorrow you visit Dr. B.
in the morning. The rest of the day is free and clear. – Amorella
***
Grandma’s Story 2.2 © rho - draft
It
is twelve years later. Merlyn is still alive, but not so well. His arm and leg
muscles have the palsy. Struck by lightning is the latest rumor. His arm
appears to ripple molasses-like, especially in his forearms. Merlyn still runs
with the wind and if there isn’t one at his back he appears to create one.
Merlyn understands Grandma runs with him as his old body bolts into a sprint.
This Grandma does.
Thomas
had the appearance of most any twelve year old. Gangly Master Thomas, is what
Head Servant Tam calls him, but not to his face. Merlyn has returned for a
visit. He makes Thomas orally memorize half a moon’s worth of Rules for Life.
Thomas
then recites the rules for Merlyn. “Good,” says Merlyn. “Now, write them down
before you forget them.”
*
Knowing his parents and house servants
with Merlyn, curiosity drives Master Thomas to finally climb to the highest
shelf in his mother’s room.
Mother
and father have some secrets, he thinks, but I know most. The bag on the top
shelf must be valuable. Thomas brightens imagining a small headstone encased in
velvet. What might be inscribed in magic on or maybe in the headstone?
I wish Merlyn were my father,
thinks Master Thomas. Merlyn can change the direction of the clouds. I have
witnessed this. He can change me into something other than what I am.
Once
reached, Thomas slowly pulls a human skull from the velvet bag. He peers into
the empty sockets and wondered how it is skull was placed in the bag. Why the
old leather? Why the newer velvet? Not wishing to waken the Dead, Thomas
whispers at the head, “Who are you?” A few moments later he finds his mother,
father and Merlyn staring at scattered papers on the old table. Master Thomas
interrupts, “Whose skull is this,
Mother?”
Criteria’s
eyes light as she laughs in a deep laugh that he has not heard before.
“Who
have we here,” announces Merlyn, “but Master Thomas sporting two heads.”
Father
smiles declaring, “We wondered if you would ever find it Thomas. I win the
wager.”
Thomas
puts the skull on a nearby chair and forges some dignity with an immediate
questioning, “What is all this? What are all these papers and books on the
table? Are you working with my parents on an unsolved mystery Merlyn?”
“An
extra two heads may be a good thing,” responds old Merlyn. “But Master Thomas,
will you give up the mystery in your hand for another on the table?”
“Writing
last longer than bones,” supplies Thomas, “and you are working on the older of
the two mysteries. I shall find out about the skull in Mother’s good time, but
you will not be here forever, so your mystery is of primary importance.”
“He
speaks his mind, Merlyn,” replied Criteria rather proudly.
*
The
days pass and on this particular day Merlyn will leave. Thomas has tears. Merlyn
hold him as tightly as if Thomas were his own son. He rubs the boy’s back for
calm and says, “Master Thomas, neither of us will live to see but a better
place in time will arrive one day. On that day we will be freer to understand
who we are.”
Master
Thomas sobs and mumbling says, “Thank you for the memorizing the rules, Uncle
Merlyn. They shall be with you in my heart always.”
“This
is where we will always meet, in the writings. Then in a whisper to Thomas’ ear
he discloses a secret. You remember this, boy,” says Merlyn. “We will discuss
it in another place in another time.”
They
hug. Merlyn then leans down and gave the boy a kiss, saying, “God be with you!”
He
turns, touches the hands of Criteria and Renaldo, and begins in a skip that in
a blink turns to a run until he is out of sight. Young Master Thomas glances at
his crying mother. Hot tears flows from the three. Never again, thinks Thomas,
will there be a man like Merlyn. He hugged and kissed me like I was his own
son. In this thought Master Thomas grow inside where the growing counts most.
Merlyn
turns running, leaving a son
The old
man’s race is hardly begun;
Master Thomas,
one of many to come,
Shares his
heart in fingers and thumb.
***
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