Remembered

I remember in every detail the kitchen where my grandmother worked while helping out at my uncle’s convenience store. There was just a flimsy curtain separating the living quarters; a bell would announce when customers walked in. I remember that big window by the table where there was a tiny 6” tv and the far corner where once in a while she would pull out the ringer washer. What a huge ordeal that was a full day’s work then hanging on the clothesline. Often we’d play cards in the afternoon maybe have a treat My slightly older cousin was in school. My aunt was my grandmother’s baby sister and she was dying of cancer. She never left her bedroom at the back, mostly she slept and I was never to disturb her. It was always a gloomy house with every curtain drawn, always quiet, always dark. One day the house was filled with guests. It was particularly somber with a lot of whispers; they had come to say their final farewells. Since then the house has been torn down to widen the road and the bridge but in all my memories I still picture it as the house where i had never seen joy and the kitchen seemed to be the only place where sunshine was allowed. AP: Honorable Mention 2025