The sun shone down on the pleasant
little town situated near an old growth forest of fir, alder, and cedar. It was midday. The sky was
blue, that profound blue that it gets sometimes in the far northwest. It felt
as if soon everything would be blooming and leafing out. A river ran near the house. It was an excellent day.
And just like every other day, at
the stroke of noon on the old wall clock, Mother brought the soup out in its
old tureen. It had been her mother’s, and she used it often. “Why not use your
nice things when you can,” she always said. “Too many people save their nice
things for the right time, and that time never comes.”
The floral china bowls were already
on the table. There was a loaf of fresh bread, of which she was very proud, on
a cutting board, with the big serrated knife. There were cotton napkins, and
tea cups. They always had tea, richly sugared, and poured from the big Brown
Betty tea pot.
There was a small ornate blue glass
vase centered on the big old wooden table, containing a few sprigs of greenery.
There were no flowers yet. Not even wild ones.
Four people were lunching there this
time. The mother, Elaine, father, Franklin, a son, grown, Robert, and a
daughter, younger than her brother, Mary Elise.
The table was surrounded by six
wooden chairs, oak. The table was oak also, all plain, but decent and clean.
The floor was plain pine boards, with a loose square of linoleum laid over it
under the table. The linoleum was printed in geometric patterns and foliage.
Elaine sat at one end of the table,
nearest the kitchen. A large black and white Tom cat came from somewhere and
settled himself on the floor by her feet. He was called Apollo.
Franklin said a quick prayer of
thanks. Elaine served the soup, as she always did. Then she sliced bread.
“Oh, I forgot the butter again!” she
said, and scurried back into the kitchen for the butter and a small butter
knife. They ate quietly for a few minutes.
“Robert,” said Franklin, “I believe
the weather is settled enough to begin spading the garden. Will you look after
that today?”
“Yes, sir,” said Robert. He looked
happy about it too, because he enjoyed gardening. He looked forward to it every
spring. He was a handsome youth, with sharply defined shoulders in a plain blue
shirt. He already had the hands of a man, tanned like his face.
Elaine remarked that she and Mary
Elise were working on a dress for Mary’s high school graduation. They would be
upstairs during the afternoon. Mary Elise smiled. She seemed young for
graduating, she was small, blue eyed, with brown braids on her shoulders. The
cotton dress she wore was a sprigged blue print, of which she was rather proud,
since she had done much of the sewing after Elaine had cut it out. She was
beginning to sense that childhood was behind her.
Franklin said he had some letters to
write, then post. He kept up with political things in this small town next to
the forest, part of a newly declared state of the union.
The family was still sitting at the
table having their second cups of tea and slices of bread. Franklin lit a small
dark cigar; Elaine brought him a saucer for the ashes. She would air the house
out when he was closed in his office writing letters.
There was a sound at the front door.
A familiar sound, and yet out of place. Four sets of blue eyes looked at the
door, and then around at each other.
A key turned the front door lock. It
made a loud metallic noise in the still air of the old house.
The door opened slowly. The old
hinges were freshy oiled and smoothy silent.
Two smiling faces peered into the
empty room.
“Oh, look out there! They did leave
us the old table and chairs” said newlywed Tracy.
“Well, I hope so! That was part of
the deal,” said her new husband, Lars.
They walked in, shutting the front
door behind themselves.
Holding hands, they explored the old
house. It felt different now that it was their own. Each room was perfectly
perfect. So antique, with room for growth and a life together.
Tracy inspected the kitchen, smiling.
When the moving van got there, her modern appliances would complete it. The old
fashioned bathroom with its huge iron tub pleased them both anew. It did feel different
now that it was home.
Coming to the dining room, Tracy said,
“Look! There on the table!”
On the center of the table sat a
small blue cut glass vase with sprigs of fir and Oregon grape in it. The
afternoon sunlight coming through the window lit it up brilliantly.
There was a faint scent of cigar
smoke in the room.
🌿
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