The Eves by Grace Sammon

Author:Grace Sammon [Sammon, Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9798648947207
Publisher: www.writingnights.org
Published: 2020-06-14T22:00:00+00:00

“The house looks quite good. Do you not think? S.”

“Nothing short of amazing. Thank you and Roy for getting this done.”

“So, did you have a good night ;-) S.”

“Yes, very. I am so glad you are both OK. I was scared, just reading the texts. I will see you tomorrow. Can’t keep my eyes open. Love you.”

the naming

W

aking up in my bed feels as lavish as falling asleep in it. Roy’s “parlor trick” of a make-over has made it impossible to stay camped out on the first floor any longer. I’ve officially been reinstated in a proper bed. Clever man.

Getting up I remake the bed, smoothing the comforter, feeling the richness of the quilt my mother made beneath my fingers. I go quickly through the mail and walk through my greatly transformed house admiring Roy’s work, the neatness, order, and the cleanliness he’s brought to it. Roy has pre-set my coffee maker and the strong smell of rich, shade-grown, home-brewed Tanzanian coffee fills my kitchen and mug. A small dusting of snow has blanketed the neighborhood, leaving it looking unspoiled and new and the house feeling cozy. Checking the notes I made before the trip, I decide that I need to be thinking most about “wrong-headedness” before returning to The Grange.

Catching a look of my reflection in the mirror, I have to admit, but maybe not to Sonia, that I finally feel more comfortable in the Sonia-esque running outfit. Checking that the snow has mostly left the sidewalks and streets, I am eager to run, I pull up the lightweight ankle support, and caress Adam’s note on the back of the door. Closing it behind me, my rock-star mom iPod strapped to my arm, earbuds in, I set out to run, focusing on “wrong-headedness.”

It feels good to be able to keep a steady pace after so many weeks. Waiting at a stop light, running in place, smiling, I notice my footprints in the dusting of snow, so temporary. Africa seems so far away, yet I can still feel the outlines of the footprints on the ridges of my fingers.

The run, as it did in the old days, helps me sort things out. Clearly, the stereotyping of The Grange women and my pre-conceived notions need to stop. I think that I basically have to simply experience them, stay in the moment with them, and see where this goes. The big takeaway to the wrongheadedness is that they themselves don’t think they are “done.” And, maybe I’m not either.

After the run and a quick shower, I decide to head to The Grange to see the results of the move into the new house and, in truth, to do my own lobbying for my suggested house name, The Eves. Before I go, and having no desire to actually grocery shop, I find the jar of beans from the M and M, put together the ingredients, pull out some frozen chicken, and toss it all together in a slow cooker. Assuring Gabler that I won’t be late tonight, I check her food and water, and I text Roy.

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