Morning all. The allergies are somehow less severe today. I think it was drinking down buckets of water along with the allergy tabs that helped. At least I like to think of it as flushing my system and rinsing out any of the pollen I might have inhaled. I’m sure the human body doesn’t work quite like that, but it makes me feel better to think it does. So shall we start on the final writing prompt for the week? i think we should, so wiggle those fingers and stretch those brains it is time for a fifteen minute power workout for the writing muscle. And go.
I think this is one of those set ups that can go in multiple ways. will this be a story about someone learning about past generations of the family and getting to know her great uncle? Will this be a horror story involving a long buried family secret? Or will it be something else. I don’t know. it is an interesting set up that leaves a lot of room to play. I’m sure I’ll come back and use this, I’m just not sure what for yet.
Friday, March 3rd: He was clearly trying.
He was clearly trying. I knew it wasn’t easy for him to have me here. He lived alone for a long time and spent most of his time in the company of hardworking men, most of whom never married or somehow managed to outlive their wives. They were an odd lot, nice when I met them before when they joined him in a visit to the house.
I always found it amusing and slightly tragic that when offered home baked items like cookies or pastries they always reacted as though they were objects of great value, rare and priceless.
I knew him of course. He was Uncle Frank. Technically speaking Great uncle Frank as he was my grandfather’s much younger brother. He was only about fifteen years older than my father. Frank never married, never had children and lived alone in the house that their parent’s built. By the time he came around they were a bit elderly and when it was time for him to leave the nest, they needed a bit of care so he stayed and lived in the same house, working in the area while the others went off to varied locales. I asked him once if he minded. I was told the story and been horrified by it. I loved my parents, even though at the moment we weren’t getting on terribly well, but the thought of staying in Barrington was not something that I wanted to contemplate. Even then I was making plans for my escape.
Frank smiled at me and said no, He was where he wanted to be and appreciated being able to stay there. Dad told me later that Frank had been a quiet boy who seemed to enjoy the small pleasures around him and never really wanted to stray too far, even as a child. He said that he and the other siblings were relieved because Frank volunteered to stay home even though the others offered. He wanted to stay, but he wanted his own space. Dad recounted going down and helping to turn the upper floor into a space for him, a sort of in house apartment, while their parents were moved to the first floor so they no longer had to deal with stairs.
Now I was in that apartment created so long ago, while he relocated to the first floor. I knew I hadn’t forced the relocation. About five years ago Frank hurt his knee and I helped moved his things down to the first floor, settling him there and making that his space instead of the upper floors so that he no longer needed to climb the stairs.
I knew what the upper floor looked like then so I knew Frank made an effort to ready the space for me. I received a scholarship to the university I longed to attend for as long as I knew such places existed. The scholarships covered classes and books and possibly a few extras but that was about it. I knew I would need to work when I was in school and in fact had already found a job. To help me save and to eliminate the need for rent, Frank offered me the upper floor.
Ten til Midnight 