War and Peas

Warning - war memories of violence

I was grateful for my thirty-minute commute because I needed time to decompress from anger, disappointment, sadness, and rage craziness.

As it turns out, I needed a longer drive. A neighbor's massive man truck filled my parking spot, and I used my one superpower of parallel parking and squeezed into the spot between his car and my elderly neighbor's. She drives twice weekly, so I know she'd be okay with it. I said a little prayer for her continued longevity. I slammed the car door on my skirt, thus ruining my triumphant exit. A pink hula hoop lay across the sidewalk, and I whipped it as hard as I could toward the neighbor's yard, but it bounced off a tree and landed back where it was.

I stomped into my house, threw my bag on the table, and flopped onto the sofa. My two cats looked at each other, like "WTH?" and ran. The dog circled in his bed a few times, then lay down again and resumed snoring.

My friend and neighbor, Linda, saw my graceless performance and stood by my side as I said my Dad's favorite, "goddamitsonofabastard!"

 I jumped when Linda said, "Yikes! "Bad day?"

"Yes, I did!" and let loose with another long string of expletives.

"So, want me to go? Stay? Dial 911?"

"Please stay. Sorry, but I didn't get the promotion that Sue promised me! PROMISED Me!" I said and punched the sofa cushion.

Linda's voice squeaked an octave higher as she suggested, "Oh dear, well, maybe this wasn't the right time for such a change?"

"Linda, I'm forty-five years old. How much time should it take? I'm sick of all of it. I feel so betrayed! And she didn't even tell me to my face! She called me from her car! Jaysus wept!"

Linda wisely kept silent, we sat there, and I did six reps of deep breathing. Barney, my tiger cat, slunk back to the living room, but Jazz stayed under the easy chair. The dog snored on, poor old guy.

"I need to vent," I said.

"Well, yeah, go!"

I took another breath and started, "It's not just my job or my breakup with Mark. I'm sick of this neighborhood that's circling the drain faster every day. I'm sick of the new neighbors on that side. I pointed to my right, and their pack of feral children tramping through my flower bed and leaving their bikes on the sidewalk, falling and crying with nobody even bothering to find out what happened. This morning I saw the youngest one sitting on the porch, eating a stick of butter!!! Two years old at the most, in its bulging diaper, eating a freaking stick of butter! A tiny part of me wants to help them, but where would I begin? I was sad when Clara died, poor old soul, but I never dreamed that freak show would move into her house! And you saw that beastly vehicle in my parking space!"

Linda went to my kitchen, and I started to get up. She whirled around and pointed at me, "Sit, Stay! Missy. I'm getting us a glass of water.

'How about a bottle of Vodka?" slumped back down.

She returned with the water, stopping to share some with my dehydrated pothos. "My therapist says I should meditate when I'm upset. Is she serious? I'm not going to tell you to do that. Just put this pillow to your face and SCREAM!"

I took the toss pillow and said, "How about you hold the pillow over my face until I stop breathing." But I did as she said and added a couple more punches to the poor sofa.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Linda asked, dramatically moving a little farther from me.

I laughed, and she handed me a tissue. I didn't even realize I'd been crying.

"Yeah, like how do I go back to my office tomorrow and watch this new person, whoever she, he, or it is, in MY new office, the office with the bigger window, that cool antique coat rack, and a bathroom! Dammit! And then come home to that chaos next door. This was such a peaceful place when Gran lived here."

Linda said, " Well, of course, it was quiet. Everybody was too old to make much noise and were stuck here until the nursing home got them. I live here too, remember?"

"I know I should be happy to have a home of any kind these days. And Gran took such good care of it. She had a new roof and siding put on just a few years before she died. I didn't get it when she asked me what color of a house I'd like someday, and I said "yellow,'" and here I am, in her yellow house."

Long story short, and without all the drama, I quit my job the next day.

I had my savings for the dream vacation in Barcelona and was almost there! I probably should have given two weeks' notice to make my CV more attractive because I would have to find another job. But I was not about to give them the satisfaction. 

One of my co-workers called, and her take on it was that I started that job part-time, then full-time, learned data entry, wrote/published collated and bulk mailed twelve-hundred newsletters each month, and more. How could they replace me at my pay, so why would they promote me? Who would do all that and do it well? That made me feel a little better, not much, but a little.

After a few days of rain, relative quiet helped, but then I went out to admire my flower bed, no peace! A flattened strip of primrose, marigolds, and dianthus ended with an overturned tricycle. ARGH!

I stormed next door and climbed the porch steps, avoiding a soggy stuffed bunny, a frisbee, and a spattering of crayons. An orange tree and two stick figures were drawn on the cement. I was about to pound on the door like a police raid, but the door was open, and pounding on a screen seemed anticlimactic. One of the urchins appeared and said, "Hi, I'm Timmy. Mom says to come in."

So I did. What I saw took the storm out of my sails. I'd been in this room many times in the past, with its lovely aqua sofa and rose side chairs, an antique mirror had graced one wall, and several beautiful watercolors lightened the others. Deep rose carpet was all that remained, in a sad, soiled shape.

Now a sizeable sagging sofa covered with afghans and blankets, a small side table, and a listing lamp - all shabby and sad. 

A very tired-looking woman nursed an infant on the sofa. "Please, have a seat. I'm Anna," she said in an accent I couldn't quite identify. She smiled, and her face transformed from fatigued and sad to radiant. "I'm so happy to meet you."

I sat on the uncomfortable wooded chair, and Timmy climbed onto the sofa, stood next to who I assumed was his mother, and said, "I'm hungry."

"I know, darlink. Let me finish feeding your sister, okay.?" She reached up and patted his head, and he sat down.

Something came over me, and I could hardly believe my words, "I'll make him a snack," I said. "I have nieces and nephews, so at least I can do that," I said and smiled.

"Thank you," she said, a cloud of worry sweeping her face.

"I'll show her, Mama!" Timmy jumped down and took my hand.

I walked into a kitchen exactly like mine. All of the houses on this block had the exact same floor plan. But again, I was shocked. Clara's lovely kitchen was no more, and the paint and cheery floral wallpaper remained, but a tiny apartment-sized stove and an old fridge huddled there instead.

To my horror, a chain and a padlock secured its door!

"Here," Timmy handed me a key.

I unlocked the fridge. A stack of six loaves of the cheapest white bread ever, sporting 'Clearance!" stickers, filled one shelf. A block of mold-spotted cheese and two apples - that was about it.

Timmy pulled out an open bread bag and carried it to the empty kitchen counter. He pulled out a drawer containing a spattering of flatware and a can opener, and one ancient carving knife lay there, loose and lonely looking.

I took out a butter knife and was surprised to see that it was silver! Tommy took out two slices of bread and then pointed to the cabinet over the sink. I opened the door, and this was depressing as well. A few cans of soup, a box of tea bags, and a bowl filled with sugar, ketchup, mustard, and jelly packets told me these were probably taken from restaurants.

"It's up there! Timmy pointed to the top shelf, where a jar of peanut butter stood alone.

I took it down, and it was nearly full, thank God, and scooped some out and spread it onto one slice. 

Timmy took the knife from me, scraped all but a thin film of peanut butter, and put the rest back into the jar. Put the bread together and ate it very slowly, which surprised me. Someone had taught him to pace his eating to make it last longer and be more digestible. 

"Would you like something to drink?"

Timmy pointed to another cupboard with several small, mismatched plates and bowls, and I took out an empty jelly jar, then realized that water was the only choice. He accepted it with a smile and sat at a small but lovely antique table with three matching chairs, which seemed out of place in such poverty.

"Hello?" Anna called from the living room. Are you finding what you need? Would you like a cup of tea, Miss ??."

"I started to decline, but I didn't want to be rude, or whatever one could be in this situation, "Yes, I'll make it and bring you a cup, too, okay?"

"Thank you so much," said Anna.

There was no kettle, just a saucepan, and I made the tea and added a sugar packet to Anna's. She needed calories, good, bad, or ugly.

 There were only a few in the box. I made Anna's tea and used the bag a second time for mine.

"I set hers on the little table next to her as she shifted the sleeping baby to her other shoulder. 

"It's so nice of you to visit," she said, "I can't walk much. The doctor at the hospital where I had Eva," she nodded toward the baby, "says I have anemia and makes me so weak and tired, so I don't go out."

I nodded. I had no words.

"Do you have more children? I see a few others here sometimes."

"No, those are my nephews. Sometimes my sister leaves them with me when she works a double shift at hospital St. Mary's. They have child care, but only for the first shift. And she pays me a little when she can or brings, so it helps."

Timmy returned the key to Anna, who put it on a chain around her neck and gave me a rueful smile, "I have to do this, so food lasts until I get more.

They probably had bread for breakfast, no toaster, PBJ for lunch without the J, and maybe bread, cheese, and a shared apple for dinner.

I felt deflated and heart-sick as I walked back to my cozy home, full pantry and refrigerator. I fed my dear cats and dog and started appreciating my sense of safety and self-reliance. I'm a woman, but I had power and many choices. How could I have been so judgemental, so uncaring? This wasn't who I wanted to be.

I went back outside and began repairing what remained of my flower garden and thought about how hate and war did this same destruction to towns, cities, and families. 

As I dug up the unsavable plants, the bodies of hope as my tears fell. They could revive them, like in a fairy tale.

"Hi," Timmy said. I looked up and wondered how long he'd been watching me. "Don't cry. I'm really sorry. It was an accident."

"Oh?" I said, wiping my tears away with the back of my hand. "What happened, sweetheart?"

He said, "I wanted to see how fast I could go and make one of those circle turns. I saw a soldier do it back home. He said he was running from the other soldiers" and shook his head, " They shot his tires, though, and the car rolled over, just like my bike. It was scary, and I wouldn't want that to happen if I was in a car! Do soldiers shoot cars here?"

I looked up at him and smiled, "No, and it's usually on a tv story. You learned an important lesson early, so you'll be a careful driver when the time comes."

He nodded and said, "Yeah!"

He sat next to me and picked up one of the pansies that barely clung to life. "This happens to people too."

This comment startled me, and I wasn't sure what to say, so I waited.

Back home, people were laying all over the place. Some were dead but just looked like they were sleeping, with no blood or anything. Other people were all broken and bloody and got better. I'm glad we got away, and I still have bad dreams. I saw a Mama and her baby lying in the street, and a man ran and saved the baby. The man screamed and cried and swore . . . "

This was all too much for my pampered, bubble-wrapped American heart.

I said, "Timmy, we can save some of these. Do you want to help?"

I looked, and he was crying and shaking. "May I give you a hug?" I asked, and he moved closer, wrapping little arms around me. We just sat quietly in the garden for a while.

Then Timmy picked up my trowel and began digging, and as I looked at the empty areas of soil, I said, "What if we plant vegetables here instead of flowers?"

Timmy jumped up and said, "Yes!"

I felt better seeing his smile and look of hope.

He asked, "Could we plant carrots, onions, celery, and potatoes? Mama made the best soup from those! Oh, and peas!"

I poured water from the sprinkling and washed our hands, then used the hem of my tee shirt to clean his face. I walked him home. Anna came to the door and smiled that beautiful, sad smile.

I said, "Timmy told me about the delicious soup you made back home, Anna."

She said softly, "Yes, he loved that. Home seems so long ago."

"Anna? If I get the ingredients together, would you come over and teach me how to make it? I'll get some ice cream and cake, and we can have a little party!"

Timmy jumped up and down, clapping his hands, "Yes, Mama? Please?"