A Spontaneous Overflow of Emotion

"What was it that William Wordsworth once said? 'A spontaneous overflow of emotion, recollected in tranquility?'" She asked, turning to face me. “This feels kind of like that, doesn’t it?”

“Dee, enough. You’ve been going on about memory and recollection the whole ride here. It’s getting old. Besides, it doesn’t even apply here.”

I peered up at the antiquated white house, the clapboard siding peeling with age. The navy-blue shutters had long since faded past, outside of their prime. They didn’t look anything like they did when I came here as a child.

God, had it really been that long? Why didn’t I ever come back? Why did Mom always insist on keeping us away?

A scoff interrupted my drifting thoughts. My younger sister apparently thought her stolen notions were gold. “You know what’s getting old? This house. It gives me the creeps. Why did I have to come here with you?”

“Because Mom told us to come see if there was anything we might want.” I took the crumbling concrete steps one at a time. The last time my feet had graced the threshold, I had been what, ten? And wearing vibrant pink, light-up sneakers. Very different to the subdued Chuck Taylors I was wearing now. Nearly 20 years had passed.

The blue paint on the door was chipped, and the door jamb was warping, causing the wood to snap apart in the middle. The tan welcome mat was faded, its inviting phraseology practically worn away.

Gently, I reached out a finger to the brass door knocker, tracing the eagle head there, just as I had all those years ago.

---

“Leslie, see that? Knock on the door, honey, so he knows we’re here.” Dad had said, looking down at me. “Go on.”

I eagerly rushed forward across the front porch, my pink sneakers nearly causing the scratchy brown mat in front of the door to go sliding, me with it.

I came to a stop and traced my finger around the eagle head once, then I threw the knocker up and down with childish zeal, excited to see my grandfather with the amazing stories and games.

Dad laughed, and the door opened.

“Hi, Dad.” My father said to the old man in the doorway.

“Son, I’m glad you could make it. And you brought my favorite checkers player, too!”

“Hi Grandpa Leo!” I said, tackling him in a miniature bear hug. A soft, sweet laugh escaped the graying man as my tiny arms wrapped around his stocky figure.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he said with a wide grin, opening the door wider and beckoning us inside.

“How are things, my boy? You don’t drop by like you used to.” Leonard asked his son as they stepped inside to catch up and cool down from the hot August air.

“Sorry, Dad. The office – you know how it gets sometimes.” Not to mention, Mary Ann never has forgiven you.

“You work too hard, Alan.” Leonard said. “And what do you think you’re doing in my chair, Leslie?” A deep throaty laugh followed the question, and I remember snuggling deeper into the plush recliner.

“Leslie, move out of his chair. Sit on the couch.” I remember Mom saying it rather brashly, but Grandpa just waved a hand and took a seat in the spare chair, setting his walking stick against the wall beside it.

“Mary Ann, it’s great to see you, too,” Grandpa Leo said. “How are things?”

Mom stayed silent for a moment. “Fine. Had to leave Deirdre back home today. Sick with something from school, so I’m afraid we can’t stay long.”

“Oh, what a shame. I’m sure she’ll be right as rain in no time!”

Mom just grunted.

---

When I opened the peeling door, it creaked, and to be honest, I thought it was going to fall off its hinges, but it managed to stay intact. I know that close to the end there, Grandpa couldn’t keep up with the outside repairs.

He’d fallen down so many times; the in-home nurse Dad had hired made sure he never even so much as tended to the flower patch in the backyard.

But the inside of the house didn’t match the outside. It was clean, but I could still tell that some family members had already gone through for a first pass at his belongings.

An icy pain lanced through my chest, stabbing right into my heart. With a wince, I peered around the living room. All of the furniture was still there. Even his walking stick was right where it should have been.

I felt my eyes water. I let the tears fall where they willed, uncertain if I was grieving, regretting, or something else entirely. Maybe a combination.

I settled into the old recliner, peering around the spotless living room with another sigh and a sniffle. He’d loved me so much; he’d even paid for my college education through the state university. Of course, he’d been a history professor, and he had major pull on campus, so he got it cheap. But still.

But, mom would never let us come around the house much. We could meet him for lunches and everything, sure. But never go to the house. After that one time I was ten, after Dad had passed away, I didn’t remember another time at the house.

I didn’t understand that. Not one bit.

---

“Can we play checkers, Grandpa? I bet I can win this time!” I said, bouncing up and down in the recliner.

“But of course. Go get the board, honey,” he said as he leaned over to grab a dinner tray from the stand next to the sofa. He set one up that was evenly distanced from his seat and mine. I came back with the box, withdrew the red and black board, and caused a few pieces to scatter across the floor.

“Leslie, don’t lose the pieces,” Mom had practically snapped at me. I noticed the steely tone to her voice, but I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Maybe she was just tired. I don’t know.

“Oh it’s okay. I know where they went,” Grandpa said, and he got down on his hands and knees to help me pick them up. I counted the red pieces and the black, but we were missing one. I furrowed my brow and scrunched up my face, but it was nowhere to be found.

“I have an idea where it is,” Grandpa Leo said. “Come over here.” I did as I was told. He reached up behind my ear and it felt like something brushed against it. When he pulled his hand away, the last black piece was between his fingertips.

“What! How’d you do that?” I squeaked, excited to learn his secret.

“A magician never tells,” He winked and bopped the end of my nose before we started the game.

----

On a whim, I got to my feet and moved to the cupboard that held the board games. I tugged open the cherry-stained door to reveal a pile of boxes, all containing board games like Monopoly, Scrabble, even Sorry. On top of all of them was an aged old box, the red and black lettering now faded with the years, just like everything else around here.

I choked back another sob and pulled the box out of the cabinet. I returned to the recliner and removed the lid. Inside, there was a cream-colored envelope on top of the folded-up board.

And the envelope had my name on it, scrawled in his semi-legible font with a fine fountain pen.

Trembling, I picked it up and unfolded the letter.

My dear Leslie,

I knew the checkers box would be the first place that you’d look.

Please, tell your mother that I am, truly, very sorry. When Alan got in that car accident one night on the way home, I just knew things would never be the same. She was already angry with me, but I know the pain of losing him was just too much to bear, and she’d never go down this road or step foot in this house again.

So I want you to take care of her for me.

Love, in life and after,

Grandpa Leo

Puzzled, I turned the note over, but then realized that there was another piece of paper in the envelope. I unfolded that one and scanned its contents, my eyes watering as I did so.

Last Will and Testament of

Leonard James Nielsen

As I read the heading, the screen door slammed shut in front of me, but I didn’t look up from the page.

I, Leonard James Nielsen, being of sound mind and body… leave my house and all belongings to Leslie May Nielsen. This includes all assets, financial and otherwise, in the hopes that it may ameliorate past mistakes among family.

“What are you doing?” Dee asked me, flopping down on the couch.

“Reading,” I said, not looking up, and I could feel the tears falling down my face once again.

“Well that’s obvious,” she said, leaning over to pluck the document from my hand before I could stop her.

“Hey! Give me that!” I said, but she dodged my attempt to take it back and began reading it.

“Holy shit—he gave you everything?! Why?”

I shrugged and wiped my hand across my face to clear away the tears. “I don’t know…”

“To ameliorate past mistakes…” Dee read aloud. “What do you think that means?”

Again, I just shrugged, being sure to keep the other note, the one written just for me, hidden from her. “I don’t know. And I’m not going to take everything. You can have some of it. And Mom. Especially Mom.”

I got to my feet and steadily strode into the kitchen, peering out the large window over the sink into the expansive backyard.

My backyard.

At that point, an onslaught of tears and grief came over me. I became wracked with sobs, unable to control any of it, letting the tears fall where they willed.

A spontaneous overflow of emotion, indeed.