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CHAPTER FOUR
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“God, I hate cleaning out the kitchen. So many little, tiny things. Knives, forks, spoons, plates, bowls, cups, mugs, pots, and pans. Stupid, stupid, and stupid. Why can’t we just throw it all in the damn dumpster?
Rachel and I will not use any of this stuff.
We have our own collection of little annoying things,” I said with a mocking contempt in my voice, although it was a little irritating, because there was so damn much of it.
We’ve been in this kitchen for two days and have only scratched the surface. Mom insists we go through everything because “it’s all usable stuff and shouldn’t go to the landfill.”
I guess she is right, but holy shit, this was tedious.
“It’s a good thing I took two weeks off work to devote all my time to this, because this kitchen alone will take most of it,” I said with a grumble.
“Stop your belly aching and get to work!” Rachel snapped, “The quicker we get through these two cabinets, the quicker we can break for lunch, because I am starving!”
Mom comes bounding in with way too much energy and happiness and announces she and Dad will be making another donation run in one hour as she sets down three big cardboard boxes.
“Don’t forget the breakables need to be wrapped so they don’t break in the bed of the truck…Rachel, can you handle that? I don’t trust Moose in his present mood.”
“I was about to suggest the same thing,” Rachel says while climbing down from a stepladder to sit on the floor.
I was pulling old mugs from the back of the top cabinet above the refrigerator.
“I loved Memaw, but…that old woman never threw anything away. At least not mugs. How many damn mugs did one woman need? If she’d been a hoarder of anything, it was freaking coffee cups, though I only ever saw her use that pink tea cup, but she has enough in this one cabinet to stock a department store. ”
I reached for the final mug in the very back corner and said, “Fucking finally, the last one!”
As my hand clasped around it, I felt the familiar sensation of the vision coming on. I had not felt a single tremor from any of the other mugs, cups, plates, bowls, or anything, but this one mug was very different.
I can usually tell if something has just a glimpse of something to show or if there is a lot.
A lot just means that it was well used, and there is a lot of information to pull from it.
So, it takes more to get all the info out.
And sometimes the info doesn’t come in reverse chronological order.
Last in, first out. Sometimes it’s all jumbled up.
My head started to spin just slightly, and it probably showed because before I knew what was happening, Dad was behind me with his hands on my back, “Whoa, Buddy! Are you ok? Climb down from there.”
I clasped the mug in my hands as I, as carefully as I could, stepped down the ladder slowly.
When I had both feet on the floor, I sat firmly on the kitchen floor and looked at this very ordinary old mug.
It was a large, plain, white ceramic mug with a blue line along the top edge.
Like the kind you would drink coffee from in an old 50s diner.
The inside was stained brown with many years of daily black coffee.
This was gonna take some study. There is a lot of information in this.
I always get a little excited with new objects, but honestly, it’s probably just imprinted with hundreds of mornings of Memaw drinking coffee.
I wrapped it carefully in an avocado print tea towel.
“Mom, would you put this in Rach’s purse there by the back door? I want to take it home with me.”
Mom walked over and took the wrapped package without a word, but a curious look. As she placed it in Rachel’s purse, she said, “You know, there are much prettier mugs scattered all over this kitchen. Why don’t you take one of those?”
“Mom, it’s not for drinking. I want to get the memories from it. It ‘spoke’ to me when I touched it, and I don’t have time right now to get involved, but I can work on it at home later.”
Mom gave a knowing nod and went back to snapping pictures from the kitchen wall.
Memaw was an amazing person, but her decorating sense was lacking.
The plaques and pictures that hung in her kitchen looked like they came from the yard sale of a derelict roadside flea market, which is probably the same place she got that old mug.
After all those hangings came down from the walls and went into a tub for donation, we all stepped back and looked at the now-empty kitchen.
All I could see were all the holes in the walls from all the nails and a couple that were considerably larger.
Some were fist-sized. I shrugged my shoulders, laughed, and mused, “Well, looks like my next project is fixing holes in the walls.”
Rachel winked at me and retorted, “Well done, Captain Obvious! I can’t imagine why you would think you should need to do that!”
I reached my right hand into my hoodie pocket and said, “Hey, Rach, I forgot I have something for you,” as I pulled my hand out and flipped her off with a side-to-side wave.
Everyone laughed, and Rachel just smiled and said, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, love!”
She then charged me playfully, and I pretended to let her catch me so I could get a kiss.
Mom shook her head, looking at the floor and laughing. She said, “If you’re thinking of making a run to the hardware store, check the shed out back. Mama had all kinds of repair and paint supplies out there, so you’ll probably find anything you’d need.”
“Good idea.” I waved as I was walking out the back door onto the back patio.
Memaw had a very spacious piece of property, located outside the suburbs of Charlotte, NC.
Altogether, her lot spanned almost nine acres just on the outskirts of town.
This was made up of at least eight acres of forest surrounding a full acre cleared in the center with a dirt driveway that came down one side, then curved along the bottom and up into the center about halfway up.
Private forest surrounded the property on all sides, with only the access road cutting through to the driveway.
The entire lot was very private and secluded.
If one didn’t know just how close to town you were, one would think you were out in the middle of nowhere.
Right as the woods break on the western edge of the property, you can see the city skyline.
“First thing on the agenda when Rach and I move here is going to be to install a wood stove, then get a generator and a hand pump for the well. Essentials for when the power goes out,” I said to myself as I was walking across the yard.
“And a riding lawn mower, because fuck it, I don’t want to push-mow this yard all summer. ”
I opened the shed door, and years of dust and stored paint hit me square in the face.
There were ceiling-to-floor shelves lining the three walls in front of me, with a large island worktable in the center, and everything was very well organized.
There was a lot of dust, but everything was labeled.
All the paint cans had paint swatches attached with the color name and receipt (for the hardware store) and the location where it was applied in the house or on the outside.
“Damn, Memaw,” I said aloud, amazed at the level of organization that I was not expecting.
I walked to the left of the worktable, looking at the items on the shelves.
I was looking for spackle, putty knives, sandpaper, and paint to fix all the holes in the kitchen walls.
As I found each item, I placed it on the center table.
Along the back wall, middle shelf, I found the sandpaper I needed, and I pulled out the container to grab a few pieces.
As I was putting the box back, I noticed a metal box tucked in the back behind everything else on the shelf.
It looked like an old-fashioned domed metal lunchbox.
I moved a couple of sandpaper boxes and reached all the way back for it.
I knew right before my hand touched the edge that it was going to happen.
This was getting on my fucking nerves. Maybe it was just because I was so close to this whole situation that nearly everything I touched was triggering me.
I felt like there was a greater purpose to all of this, some message that Memaw was trying to send me, from beyond the grave.
I quickly shoved down the sensation so I could investigate the box properly.
When a vision or similar sensation arises, I usually see the scene from the vantage point of the item itself, like the item is showing me what it ‘saw’. I know it’s weird, but it’s how my brain processes all the information. Most times, I have to mentally prepare for the visions.
I placed the box onto the worktable and rotated it so that the latch was facing me. I took a deep breath, centered myself with a couple of cleansing breaths, and placed my hands firmly on each side of the box like I was going to lift it, and allowed the visions to come. The vision surrounded me.
I noticed that there was a light from somewhere in front of me, when a hand touched me and pulled me from the dark.
I was lifted and placed on the center worktable by Memaw.
I could clearly see her. She was older. This vision was most likely from just a couple of years ago.
She opened the box and placed something inside.
She took a piece of blue tape from the back of her hand and taped the item down onto the inside bottom of the lunchbox.
She closed the lid, picked up the box, and slid it back into the dark.
Next, I was sitting on the ground in the woods.
No, not in the woods, but definitely someplace wooded.
A hand reached down and picked me up, and all I could see were white canvas shoes with white ankle socks.
They looked like a woman’s feet, so I assumed they belonged to Memaw.
We were walking fast down the driveway towards Memaw’s house, but she didn’t go into the house.
Instead, she went around the side of the house, across the backyard, and into the shed.
She placed me down on the back shelf and pushed me to the back.
The light went off, and the vision shifted.
I could tell this was from a different time.
Suddenly, I slid from the kitchen table, obviously Memaw’s kitchen table.
I could see a bed tray with a white ceramic mug with a blue rim and a half-eaten plate of eggs, bacon, and toast with jam.
There was no sound except metal sliding on wood and the birds outside.
The room was very bright, illuminated by the morning sun.
Next, I was being carried. The person carrying me was wearing white canvas tennis shoes with white ankle socks.
They were not wearing pants; instead, I could see the hem of a blue skirt.
A Carolina blue skirt. Memaw was carrying me, and from a distance, I could see the long driveway.
We continued walking toward the road. From what I could see, I was thinking that she could be walking to work.
Once we got to the main road, she turned to the right, heading toward the mailbox.
She walked past the mailbox, and I could see a large tree stump just off the road.
Our motion stopped, and I got the sensation of being lowered to the ground.
Next, my perspective was from the ground to the right of the stump.
I could see Memaw standing there looking at me…
the box. She was dressed in a waitress uniform; her name tag said ‘Guilia’.
She looked so young, probably in her 20s to mid-30s.
She looked at the box for a moment and then walked away in the direction of the driveway.
I pulled myself out of the vision and lifted the latch of the lunchbox. At the bottom, something was taped down with blue painter’s tape. I pulled it off and flipped the tape over to reveal a key. My heart skipped a beat; this was a message from Memaw, some kind of trail for me to follow.
I slipped the key into my pocket, grabbed the repair supplies, and walked across the yard and back into the house. I must have been pale because everyone stopped talking when I walked in and gasped. “Moose! Are you ok? You look horrible,” Mom nearly screamed as she was walking toward me.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Too many paint fumes, I think. Do you think we can break for the day and get started early tomorrow? I have a bad headache, and my stomach is a little flippy. I need a nap and some food.”
“Absolutely,” Mom said, reaching for my forehead, “it’s nearly two pm now anyway. We have to get all of this stuff to the donation center before four p.m. anyway, so we can just go now.”
“Feel better, Moose, and we will see you around nine a.m.?” Dad said, and I could see the concern in his face.
We took the next twenty minutes loading all the boxes into the back of Dad’s SUV, and as Rachel and I were driving away, she looked at me with a furrowed brow and said, “What is going on, love? You used our ‘we need to talk’ code word, ‘flippy’. Are you really feeling that badly, or is something else going on?”
I smiled, “I love you so much, and I love that you know me better than anyone, and you pick up on everything. Yeah, I need to run some stuff by you and get your opinion, and I don’t want anyone to know anything until I have everything figured out.
I hate to feel like I’m keeping things from Mom and Dad, but I think Memaw had a huge secret.
She’s showing me bit by bit, like she doesn’t want to just reveal everything all at once. ”