2 comments

Happy Fiction

He was walking down the sidewalk in a new neighborhood he had never been before. He took in the all the details as he strolled along - the slight female dog walker struggling with 5 dogs across the street, a young boy struggling to eat his ice cream as his mother swiftly pulled him along by his other arm, the 2 older gentlemen people watching on a stoop and the steam rising from a grating as he passed by. Then he stopped short as he was engulfed by the scent of lemon verbena and he was instantly transported back in time to when he was a small child.

His mother had gotten an urgent call and needed to go but his father was at work so she called on the next door neighbor to watch him. The elderly woman who answered had a kind face and after a hurried discussion on his mothers part and strict words to behave himself, was ushered into a wood paneled living room. He stood there looking around at all the old things, clutching his toy car, instinctively knowing that anything in here would be fragile but he still curious about all the items just the same. The kind elderly woman came in and sat in a very worn, comfortable looking chair. She asked him something in a soothing tone to which he didn't really hear as he was eyeing everything in the room. She picked up some kind of circular object and settled back in the chair, repeatedly pulling a thread through the circular object. Curiosity about what she was doing won out over the interesting room and he approached the elderly woman. She smiled kindly over the rim of her glasses and brought the object down for him to see. Looking down he saw what looked to be a painting of a scene but in thread - a street with buildings and cheery flowers were encircled by a yellow frame. As he bent to peer closer at the scene, his little shoulder bumped the side table and then he heard a cry of alarm from the elderly woman. As he jumped back in fear he saw out of the corner of his eye a little glass bottle falling as if in slow motion, end over end, shattering to pieces between the throw rug and wooden floor. A strong smell of sweet lemons filled his nostrils as he looked wide eyed at the elderly woman. As time seemed to return to normal, tears welled in his eyes as he tried to mumble his apologies as she got up quickly from her chair to retrieve something to clean it up. When she returned she knelt slowly uttering kind reassurances that it was ok. He watched as she carefully picked up the tiny glass pieces still talking calmly to him something about what the piece was he broke. He wiped the tears from his cheek with his fist as she got up slowly and took the pieces away. He stared where the glass bottle had fallen and broken, stained now, making the spot where it fell and the surrounding area darker, the scent lingering in the air. She came back and sat in the chair again and opened her arms to him. He still felt upset about breaking the valuable item but needed to be comforted so went into her arms. He tried to apologize again but she just stroked his hair, soothing him, telling him that it was an accident. Up close she smelled like the contents of the bottle he had broken. After awhile he felt a little better and he stepped back. She asked him if he wanted some juice and he nodded, following her into the kitchen. As she went to the fridge, he pulled out a chair and climbed up to the table and finally put his toy car down on the table. She put a glass of juice in front of him and sat down to have one herself. They drank in silence for awhile before the elderly lady asked him if he wanted to play with his car while she continued her stitching. He nodded, got up from the table and took his glass to the kitchen sink. She followed, took his glass, depositing it in the sink while he retrieved his toy car and followed her back to the living room. She resumed her seat and he sat on the carpet playing with his car. They passed a few hours like this until there was a knock on the door. Putting her needlework down, the elderly woman went to open the door to find his mother there. She came in and asked the woman how the afternoon went and then held out her hand for him to go with her. He picked up his car and went to his mother. Once outside in the hallway outside their own front door he tugged on his mother's skirt. He then told her what had happened with the little glass bottle and asked his mother if he could have the money to replace what he had broken. His mother looked gravely at him, bent down and told him that was a very responsible thing he wanted to do and said they would go to the store the next day.

The next day he marched down the hallway at 3pm in the afternoon and knocked on the elderly lady's door. While he waited he turn his head toward his own apartment to see his mother watching from their doorway. She nodded encouragingly to the boy. After what seemed like a long while, the elderly woman came to the door in her housecoat. Surprised to see him, she gestured for the him to come in. She apologized, telling him she wasn't feeling very well. He gravely looked up at her as she settled in her chair and stammered:

"Ma'am I want to thank you for taking such good care of me yesterday when my mum had to go out. I'm awfully sorry about breaking your little glass bottle and hope that you find this replacement alright."

He handed her a little wrapped box which she took, startled. Unwrapping it in front of him she unstoppered the bottle and took a delicate sniff, exclaiming that it was identical to the one broken but the bottle was more exquisite. He blushed and nodded his head and wishing her to feel better he ran out her front door back to his own apartment.

The man smiled to himself on the street still smelling lemon verbena - thinking about how the memory had come back to him so strongly. He looked around for the source of the smell but the street was clear with only the elderly gentlemen on the stoop remaining. He shook his head and continued on his walk still smiling to himself.

October 01, 2020 15:48

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2 comments

Kyle Johnson
14:16 Oct 05, 2020

Colorful piece. Reminds me of James Agee's "Knoxville: Summer of 1915."

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Gwyneria E
15:24 Oct 08, 2020

HI Kyle - thank you for your comment. I hadn't read that before and had to look it up, and actually wanted to thank you for adding another style of writing to my repertoire!

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