Some days are so long and I feel like I am not accomplishing my mission in life. I flop on the couch and think, think, think. The world should know by now that although I am a creative genius, with a glittery collar attached to a lead, I am kept in captivity like a Seal at Marine land, catching, fetching, flapping, all to gain attention . Like a criminal, I do not get out the door with out an escort.
I know, (I SHOULD know) I have done some questionable things in the past and safeguards are in place to save my body and soul. But the Indoor / Outdoor Cats, they smirk at me, behind their two-faced paws. I am sure they feel superior because they are trusted to take care of themselves, to come back on time, while on the other hand, I went out of my way (in my youth, I tell you) to take the whole family on wild goose chases, down streets, over fields, through traffic, causing mayhem and refusing to stop on command. I am no longer that puppy. But Momma can not bear to lose me, so we spend a lot of time together and I am spoon fed stories to feed my sense of adventure and keep me happy while I am anchored.
One day, when I was moping around, Momma tried to paint me a picture of her esoteric father, felled by a crippling stroke and yet still a strong life force, arranging, planning, executing with his last heart beats.
It was just another frantic weekend when Momma thought she would slip in to see her father in the Long Term Facility where he had been sent once medical intervention was no longer an option. The stroke had brought on abilities (to invent dramas….in his head) and real-time disabilities, (one of which was being paralyzed on his left side). Daddy and Wonder Boy also visited faithfully, but today they would get a break from the extra duty imposed by a sick family member, through no fault of his own.
Momma got off the elevator on his floor and weaved her way between elderly patients in wheelchairs, charging at her with a vengeance and reckless abandon, since they could not control their walkers or wheelchairs or should they still be walking, their drunk-like gait.
When Momma reached my father’s room, he asked me, ‘Did you see Oliver Over-the-Hill on the elevator today?’ Now her father, with his confused brain, often told his family some fantastic tales. It seemed John Major, the Prime Minister of England at that time, was using him as his political adviser. He would explain the political decisions Mr. Major made, based on Momma’s father’s sound advice. Also, Bob Barker from ‘The Price is Right’ was his cousin and my youngest sister was going to get a call from him, any day now, to replace Vanna as hostess on the game show. Itty Bitty would smile, point out prizes, and clap when it was appropriate. She could handle that, one hand tied behind her back.
Oliver Over-the-Hill, Oliver Over-the-Hill, where had Momma heard that name, she thought frantically. Then it came to her. He was an old-timer from their neck of the woods, that died even before she was born. Even so, his legend lived on. He had been a much respected, take charge business man who would step up and take control without invitation.
‘No Dad, I did not see him. What ever is Oliver Over-the-Hill doing on the elevator?’, Momma asked, quite innocently. He leaned over to whisper in her ear so the other patients in the room would not hear and be frightened, ‘He is taking lost souls back to Heaven.’
‘Aaah,’ Momma said, ‘I am just as glad I did not see him then or I might be Heaven bound.’ Momma’s father’s expression read, mock you if you must, as he said, ‘Oh ye of little faith and less understanding.’
This says it all – the description and image of a Fairy Ring,where angels and fairies rest until the moon comes out again and they can leap and dance…..
I just wish I had met Momma’s father. A man so connected, an advisor to John Major, a cousin to Bob Barker, a man who met up with Peter Cottontail, saw the fairies leap and dance around the Fairy Circle on a Moon Lit Night and actually saw Oliver Over-the-Hill’s ghost on the elevator.
They don’t make ’em like my Grandpapa any more.
