Did I tell you about the time Momma decided it was time to better anchor the cabinet which had a kind of, sort of, lean-to it, over the toilet to the bathroom wall? I thought not! It was a disaster, waiting to happen.
As Momma put her head down to look under to see where the screws were located, the whole cabinet crashed off the wall, on to the bathroom floor, ejecting all the junk collected for the past seventeen years since Momma had moved here. The floor was knee-deep from hoarding old medications, empty prescription bottles, a rainbow of vitamins, hair clasps, soaps, treasures that should have been trashed long time ago. Momma’s Guardian Angels, the Arch Angels, God and Baby Jesus are the only ones who stood between Momma and a broken neck that day.
Miraculously, all Momma was left with was a very bruised, somewhat swollen left arm, a little whiplash, from moving out from under the cabinets’ trajectory that any inanimate object produces. Also a lot more respect and knowledge that there are some things an eighty-five pound weakling should not tackle.
But then there is the other thing, it almost feels like gossip to report it, you may accuse me of being mean-spirited but it has to be said, if I am going to be allowed to ‘tell all’ that confounds me. Since the time I was able to walk on a leash, every afternoon, we would cross busy Centre Street (good job I am on a leash because the way the traffic flies past, I’d be meeting Zanny’s fate), and go past the Friendly Lady’s home. I just hope, hope, hope she has her long-haired hamster outside in his cage. It is so much fun to sniff him and watch his long whiskers quiver. Then we continue our walk further, stop to talk to Neighborhood Landlord, with the heels of his shoes held on with thick elastic bands. No, no, he is not poor, he owns many apartments and houses (and by the looks of his various gateways, stuffed with unplated cars, a Curbside Car Dealer) that make him a good income but for years he got his safety shoes for free, thanks to his union job, and by George, he is not paying for new ones, any time soon.
Also, even though the Neighborhood Landlord’s son makes a gazillion $ in IT working at NASA Johnson Space Centre, down in Houston, Texas, he goes down every year to renovate his home – no use paying for it when Dad can do it for free. No wonder our economy is floundering. Anyway, an elastic works just fine, well, maybe, he conceded, not so good when it rains because his feet get wet but the home improvements for his son gives
Like the post man – rain, sleet, or snow, we walk .
him a reason to go to Texas every winter. Not like his life had been easy, with his wife, the mother of his son being killed in a car accident when the lad was barely seven years old. I tell you, I sit and listen, trying not to whine and get impatient. Everybody has a story. What they need is someone to tell it to. That is where Momma comes in.
Up we go, past The Dog Lady’s house and I run up to the steps for a cuddle from her and a romp with her SPCA Black Poodle Rescue Dog, Princess, that surely has the life of Riley. Now The Dog Lady has taken in a long-eared, sad eyed beagle dash hound mix pup that no one else wanted – she is a good woman. But don’t get any ideas, Momma. I am not as good-natured as Princess. Remember, everything is mine, mine and mine and I don’t share…with other dogs.
Finally we have reached our destination – The Cemetery – the gated rolling acres of well nourished, maintained professionally cut grass, each blade seeming to be the same length and the same color of green. (It belongs to the City and Momma pays taxes ….as well spent over $12,000.00 for a plot ….so it should be well-kept).
There are headstones, monuments, angels and tombstones of all sizes, and various ages, starting some 200 hundred years ago. The massive trees, that provide shade are brimming with bird nests that are filled with chirping peepers every spring. Like a maze, there are paved streets, that go around and around, then dump out to the streets. Every night all the gates, every entrance, are locked. I can not say, for sure, if it is to keep the dead in or the live out. I am keeping an ear to the ground….I will let you know more when I know more. Pinkie Promise.
