Journal of a Living Lady #232
Nancy White Kelly
It was a dark and stormy night. The power had been out for hours. Our outdoor wind chimes clanged discordantly. I felt my way through the eerie blackness of the hallway to the front porch. Standing there in awe, my ears absorbed the sounds of nature gone amok. Noisy, rushing water battered the creek bank. Gusting winds made large tree limbs split. Walnuts, still in their green shells, dropped to the soggy ground with mortal thuds.
It was an appropriate time to repeat my favorite mantra, “This too shall pass.” And it did… eventually.
Since Charlie and Tori are school teachers, they got an unexpected day off due to the storm. Being concerned, dutiful children, or perhaps bored, hungry ones, they headed to what Tori refers to as, “Mama and Papa Kelly’s house. “
We braced ourselves. Our normally calm home was about to be temporarily occupied with the young and energetic. We discarded the pile of old mail and magazines occupying half of the dining table. Buddy was off to the store for more milk, bread, and doggie treats.
By noon, the kids, now twenty-four and expecting their first baby in March, pulled into the drive. Neither Buddy nor I needed to leave our comfortable recliners to confirm. Our two dogs, Junebug and Oppie, heard the excited bark of their Chihuahua, Snickers, and literally jumped for joy. The three, tail-wagging doggie cousins were certain that all this frenzy of preparedness had been just for them. We let them enjoy the illusion.
When Charlie is home, it is like an on-going dorm party. Friends drop by all hours of the day and into the night!
The guys alternate between the timeless activities of yelling for their favorite team and horseplay.
On this particular day, raucous, joyful laughter filled the house. Charlie picked up the telephone, held it like a microphone, and described the play by play action as the three equally short-legged dogs, decided to race.
The lengthy course, determined by the dogs, extended up our hallway, through the small office, up the long den, and across the kitchen. To avoid colliding with the wall, the dogs had to make a sudden adjustment before turning left into the hallway for another lap.
“Leading by a half-dog is Snickers,” announced Charlie. This spontaneous dog race was hysterical, especially when Junebug, the youngest, occasionally cheated by taking a short-cut between the counters in the kitchen.
Eventually Buddy and I tired, took our dozen pills, and shut the bedroom door. Though not involved, we could still hear the activity in the kitchen. The refrigerator ice maker continually filled on-going requests for cubes. The cookie jar top rattled. Potato chip bags popped open.
The last words I remember hearing before falling asleep was, “I challenge that. Get the dictionary.” Obviously they had found the Scrabble game.
All too soon the friends left. The married children and their dog headed home.
The last remnant of the storm passed. It was back to us two old-timers in an all too quiet house.
nancyk@alltel.net
