10 Years Ago: Old Age and Permanent Ways

On our way to Virginia we stopped at Longwood Gardens in Kennett Square, Pennsylvania- mushroom capitol of the world. As we walked through the gardens, Mom pointed out the overwhelming fragrance of boxwood. I recognized the smell immediately even though I hadn't been home in over two years: my parent's home, that is, or rather the town in which they both grew up. Boxwood exudes the scent surrounding the house my uncle and grandmother live in.

My uncle pulls his wheelchair out of the way as we enter. Dad and I shake hands with him, and Mom leans over the chair to give him a hug. Then we each loudly announce our presence to Grandma as we lean over the reclining easy chair. I squelch my instinct to cringe and flee as her bony fingers pull me closer to her milky eyes, so she can kiss me on the cheek.

"How you doin', Lisa?" my grandmother inquires.

"That's Claire, Mama," my Dad corrects. He needn't have bothered, I've gotten used to it.

"Oh that's right, how you doin', Clara?"

Not since I was born have my parents been able to convince her that my name is Claire. My mother's mother told my parents they could call me anything but Clara, so they altered it to Claire (for which I am truly grateful). However, my other grandmother never grasped this distinction, and never will, so I ignore it amicably.

"Fine," I holler hoping the inquiries will cease.

"You still in school?" she asks.

I sigh and turn back to her as I take my seat on the sofa. "I just graduated."

"You graduated?"

"Yes, Grandma."

"You gonna go to college?"

Looks like I've drawn the short stick on this occasion. I respond, "I just graduated from college."

"That's real good. What you gonna do now? Be a teacher?"

It's still early in the visit so I know there's no help yet to be had. For my uncle's benefit more than for Grandma's I try to explain. "No. I'm either going to graduate school. . ."

"What's that?" she asks tilting her ear toward me to hear better.

I'm not even sure she knows what graduate school is, but I try again louder and enunciating more. "I'm either going to graduate school, or I'm going to get a job."

"That's good I reckon."

Finally there is a pause, I relax and lean back trying to blend into the wall. But then she begins again, "Lisa, how's your Mama doin'?"

Dad explains, "She passed away, Mama."

"Oh that's right. I keep forgetting that. How's your Daddy doin'?"

"He's fine. He still gets around pretty good," my Mom offers.

"Clara, you still going to school?" Grandma asks.

Anticipating her next inquiry I respond, "I just graduated from college."

"What you gonna do now?"

"Either go to graduate school or get a job."

"What's that?"

I decide to try a simpler approach. "Make movies."

"That seems like a good thing to get into."

"Yeah, I like it."

"Yeah, I think you'd like it, too."

"I do like it."

"How's your Mama doin'?" Grandma asks me. I look over to Mom who is sitting in the chair next to Grandma.

"I'm fine." Mom interjects.

"Oh you're here, Lisa. My eyesight's not so good anymore. How's your Mama doin'?"

When I look at Mom I think she's almost gotten used to it, but her face betrays the hurt. If there was one thing I could make my grandmother remember it is that my other grandmother died two years ago. It'd be nice if she knew my name was Claire, but that would be pushing my luck.

"She died," my Mom states gently.

"Oh that's right. I keep forgetting that." Grandma responds oblivious to the discomfort she has caused.

"That just doesn't stick in your mind," Dad comments.

"Yeah, I don't know why," Grandma says. We all sit for a moment in silence. "You going to college, Clara?"