Chapter 12
Ruthie, I want to thank you for giving me a job, that being all I’m telling you about my life.
I have enjoyed telling you about certain things but mostly I have enjoyed revisiting memories like I’m watching home movies again, the film whirring along, the images shown on a sheet hung up in a darkened living room.
I hadn’t counted on remembering all these things, but I’m glad I did.
I realize I’m leaving you a lot to read through and I hope you won’t be mad.
I don’t think you will. I do hope you’re able to use some of my things, maybe something that will make you remember being a little girl becoming good friends with your neighbor, Flo.
I believe you were eight years old when you asked if I wanted to be blood sisters with you, and didn’t we prick our fingers and do it.
I just got a picture in my head of your being here in this house after I’m gone, wearing nice slacks and a pretty blouse and your hair in a ponytail.
A somber expression as you go rooting through the drawers, and maybe you’ll be a little flustered, but tell you what, you just quick take what you want and then call those fellers who take away junk.
Then you can sell the house and that will be fine.
I won’t know WHAT you do so don’t you worry about me.
I won’t know what you do unless there’s an afterlife where I would be like an angel floating above you, and if I were an angel I sure wouldn’t be making judgments or getting fussy about what you do with my house.
No, I think I would have a pulled-back kind of mind at that point.
But look at me wandering off as usual. Let us get down to business.
You once were playing Rich Lady and I made you some lemonade and put it in one of those beautiful crystal glasses that are in a box in the basement.
Seems like nobody wants such things anymore, problems with where to store them, and they seem fussy, I suppose.
But I hope you’ll just look at the etchings on them again, and see how pretty they are.
You seemed to like it when we used one that day.
And I remember I cut crusts off your peanut butter sandwich, and you sat straight as a board wearing your tutu and a striped t-shirt that you’d slid off your shoulders to be your strapless gown.
You had a pair of my high heels over your socks, and you had on my jewelry, too, all you could fit on yourself.
I remember you had on my blue rhinestone earrings and that wasn’t enough so you clipped the red and white polka dot earrings onto your glasses.
You were done up and I took a picture of you I still have, you might find it in one of my albums and offer it to your children.
Oh, what children’s joyful freedom can do for us, seems like a parched lawn being watered, being around them sometimes.
And you in particular, Miss Ruthie, you always had something going, I didn’t ever know what you would have in your wagon, one time you were peddling rocks and you sure enough sold some, some were agates and right pretty.
I myself bought one for thirty cents and it’s still in my nightstand drawer. You’ll find it.
I spent a lot of time with you when you were a girl.
And a fair amount when you got to the terrible teens and didn’t hardly want to spend time with anyone, including yourself, it seemed.
Even so, you would come to sit with me, and we would pass the time.
You with your sparkle fingernail polish, perfectly applied, not all messy like when you were little.
I would look over at you and think, She’s going to be a beautiful woman.
And I would think, If she were mine, I would have named her Glory.
I didn’t tell you that, although now I think maybe you would have liked to hear it.
My, what we don’t say in our lifetimes. But there I go a-wandering again.
I got some old suits from the 1940s good as new.
I’ve heard some young people like the vintage look so there you go.
I got an old telephone in the basement makes a click-click-click sound when the rotary dial spins back from dialing, I wonder would your kids like that.
I have a copy of that book Gone With the Wind someone told me was worth money what with the way the author signed her name in it.
I have tablecloths from the ’30s with nary a stain, they might work fine for a picnic.
I don’t know of a much better thing than a perfect day and a hamper and a tree generous with shade.
And of course your sweetheart there to share it all, sitting cross-legged on the blanket.
I haven’t sat cross-legged for years, and I’m tempted to try it now but I know I can’t do it so why remind myself.
Anyway, I might get stuck and no one here to unstick me.
I have some fountain pens that are true works of art, and I have some turquoise ink left, that was always my favorite.
I have plenty of greeting cards in a drawer in the basement, right down there in the laundry room cupboard, some are real old but I believe there is a market for them or maybe your friends would like to receive them.
Nobody gets much mail anymore and a pretty Valentine from long ago might soften someone’s hard day, you never know.
Oh and embroidered dishcloths and pillowcases and some picture frames might as well be reused.
Some useful things, Ruthie. To me they are so useful.