Grandma Jo
She had been a handsome woman. Handsome was the right word for it. She was free as the road that took her to each new destination with her caravan of a family. Washington for apples in the fall, Oregon for strawberries in the summertime...always following the highway for the next crop, the next adventure. It was hard work, this life of wandering toil, but she didn't mind it. She had her little flock of three boys around her and her man beside her. That was all that really mattered.
As the boys grew older, they started little flocks of their own. The land was good in Oklahoma, and they found women to love, keep them warm at night. The little ones started to come then, the first one being a sweet blonde headed boy her son, the eldest, named William after himself and his father, the handsome woman's first husband now in federal prison for an arms deal gone bad. Still, life was beautiful with little William in her arms. She sang to him and lit up like a Christmas tree whenever she saw the lad.
She started worrying about the boy when he turned 5. The police pulled him over as he walked from his new home in Arkansas to run away to his grandparent's house in Oklahoma. She didn't know what to do then. Poor thing had packed up a little bag and trotted along the highway like he owned the road. Later, she heard the wild wind whirling the tale of her son's divorce. The child was left alone with video games as babysitters while her son lost himself in the bottom of another bottle. Something needed to be done. The boy could not raise himself.
And then, she fell. The ladder slipped from under her as she harvested the peaches and her back broke. Suddenly, all her handsome, wild beauty was replaced by a bed. When the money came from the settlement and her son called in for a favor, she knew what to do. She traded her money for the time of her grandson- just for a summer- to visit her in her new home in Oregon. At fourteen, it was agreed that William would fly to the arms of the one who loved him best, the lady everyone called Jo.
But she needed more time. She needed to be near him, to know he was safe and cared for. So she did the unthinkable. She lied. She told the boy that his father did not want him back, and the father that the boy was unwilling to come home. She heard the argument they had on the phone, and she let it be. A few years past, and the boy's father moved to Oregon to be near him. But when the truth came out, the boy would not forgive her for the trick she had played.
Still, there were the cats. It started out with one. She would take in a stray here and there. Before it was all over there were 30 or 50. Nobody knew exactly, but she knew them all by name. They were her great joy in life. She would blow kisses at them, pet them lovingly, and tell them her secrets and little nothings as they passed by.
But the house reeked of ammonia. The lights had been off for several months now, and the eviction notice came. Her man did all he could to support them, but with his two brothers, the boy, and herself not working, it just was not enough. So they decided to take shelter once again in a trailer- one of those camper things- just like in the old days. Propane would work for heat and cooking, and it was their own space. Of course they could not bring all of those cats, that was out of the question, but maybe one or two could come with her.
She had begun forgetting things. Blame it on old age or the accident, but her family recognized the lapses in memory, the meaningless chatter, her claims that things were that had not been. They called it going senile. In December, she ended up in the hospital and was put on oxygen. It seemed to help clear her mind a bit. She could remember what she was thinking for a little while anyway. She was discharged on Christmas Eve, and the boy William, now 19, took her to live with him and his bride, though they barely had enough for themselves.
She wasn't used to it, this depending on someone else, especially not the boy. Still, she tried to make herself useful. She would clean up around the place and wash the dishes in the outbuilding. To do this, she would often take her oxygen mask off. The boy and his bride would find her blue outside on the step or on her bed, lecture her about keeping her oxygen on at all times, and depart with solemn faces as they worried if next time, it would mean death.
And then spring came. She was back in the hospital, and her son William agreed to take her in. The arrangement would last only a few weeks before the rift had grown so deep that she and her man were sleeping in the old truck. Then another hospital visit, and her two other boys came up from Oklahoma to take her home, make her comfortable, and wait for her final days. She waited to get home before she passed. She wanted to be with her kin at peace in the earth of her home. The boy came from Oregon to Oklahoma to lay her to rest. To others she was Georgette. To the boy she would always be Grandma Jo.
As the boys grew older, they started little flocks of their own. The land was good in Oklahoma, and they found women to love, keep them warm at night. The little ones started to come then, the first one being a sweet blonde headed boy her son, the eldest, named William after himself and his father, the handsome woman's first husband now in federal prison for an arms deal gone bad. Still, life was beautiful with little William in her arms. She sang to him and lit up like a Christmas tree whenever she saw the lad.
She started worrying about the boy when he turned 5. The police pulled him over as he walked from his new home in Arkansas to run away to his grandparent's house in Oklahoma. She didn't know what to do then. Poor thing had packed up a little bag and trotted along the highway like he owned the road. Later, she heard the wild wind whirling the tale of her son's divorce. The child was left alone with video games as babysitters while her son lost himself in the bottom of another bottle. Something needed to be done. The boy could not raise himself.
And then, she fell. The ladder slipped from under her as she harvested the peaches and her back broke. Suddenly, all her handsome, wild beauty was replaced by a bed. When the money came from the settlement and her son called in for a favor, she knew what to do. She traded her money for the time of her grandson- just for a summer- to visit her in her new home in Oregon. At fourteen, it was agreed that William would fly to the arms of the one who loved him best, the lady everyone called Jo.
But she needed more time. She needed to be near him, to know he was safe and cared for. So she did the unthinkable. She lied. She told the boy that his father did not want him back, and the father that the boy was unwilling to come home. She heard the argument they had on the phone, and she let it be. A few years past, and the boy's father moved to Oregon to be near him. But when the truth came out, the boy would not forgive her for the trick she had played.
Still, there were the cats. It started out with one. She would take in a stray here and there. Before it was all over there were 30 or 50. Nobody knew exactly, but she knew them all by name. They were her great joy in life. She would blow kisses at them, pet them lovingly, and tell them her secrets and little nothings as they passed by.
But the house reeked of ammonia. The lights had been off for several months now, and the eviction notice came. Her man did all he could to support them, but with his two brothers, the boy, and herself not working, it just was not enough. So they decided to take shelter once again in a trailer- one of those camper things- just like in the old days. Propane would work for heat and cooking, and it was their own space. Of course they could not bring all of those cats, that was out of the question, but maybe one or two could come with her.
She had begun forgetting things. Blame it on old age or the accident, but her family recognized the lapses in memory, the meaningless chatter, her claims that things were that had not been. They called it going senile. In December, she ended up in the hospital and was put on oxygen. It seemed to help clear her mind a bit. She could remember what she was thinking for a little while anyway. She was discharged on Christmas Eve, and the boy William, now 19, took her to live with him and his bride, though they barely had enough for themselves.
She wasn't used to it, this depending on someone else, especially not the boy. Still, she tried to make herself useful. She would clean up around the place and wash the dishes in the outbuilding. To do this, she would often take her oxygen mask off. The boy and his bride would find her blue outside on the step or on her bed, lecture her about keeping her oxygen on at all times, and depart with solemn faces as they worried if next time, it would mean death.
And then spring came. She was back in the hospital, and her son William agreed to take her in. The arrangement would last only a few weeks before the rift had grown so deep that she and her man were sleeping in the old truck. Then another hospital visit, and her two other boys came up from Oklahoma to take her home, make her comfortable, and wait for her final days. She waited to get home before she passed. She wanted to be with her kin at peace in the earth of her home. The boy came from Oregon to Oklahoma to lay her to rest. To others she was Georgette. To the boy she would always be Grandma Jo.
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