Different Yet the Same

Sara drove up to the mailboxes and stopped. At 26, she was always busy between work and fun. She quickly jumped out of her white Jeep and opened her box. She grabbed the pile of letters and put them in the passenger seat. She made the quick drive back to her house and parked on the corner, the same as always. Picking up the letters she shuffled through them, coupons for pizza, an excellently disguised offer to renew her car’s extended warranty, voter registration reminder, and the letter from mom. She stared at the letter from mom, she already knew what it was. She turned it over and opened it carefully making sure not to rip the smiley face sticker mom always put on letters. Yes, it seemed corny and at the same time, that’s what made mom special. Opening the letter she read “Dear Sara, I hope you loved the smiley face, I knew you would! I know it’s going to be hard but it's a job that has to be done and you’re the perfect person. Your grandmother’s house is a nice drive from your house. It will give you plenty of time to think about her and she’ll be so appreciative. We all wish she could be here but life has plans of its own. She wired the $20,000.00 to your account so please check to see that it’s there and let me know. The house key is included here, it’s for the front door. Please do a good job, I know you will. You’ll find everything you need inside the house. When you finish, send the key back. The money is yours to keep, she insisted. Keep me posted! Lots of love and hugs, Mom”. Not many things slowed Sara down, but the thought of this did. Grandma’s house needed to be organized and “put on hold” whatever that meant. Not exactly Sara’s strongest area, and she knew it. Speaking out loud to herself she sighed, " Life sure does have a way of handing out challenges to the least likely to get them right, no instructions included, of course”. Staring at the smiley face on mom’s letter she had to smile. “I’ll give it my best, no promises on the results”. Grandma knew that Sara was challenged in the organizing area so why she chose her is a mystery. Some questions seem to never get answers. At least the three-hour drive would be nice, Sara loved the trees in that part of the state.

Pulling into the driveway it was strange that grandma didn’t come out to meet her. It’s ok she remembered, it’s not forever. The house was as inviting as always. Something about grandma’s houses just always had a special feel, in a mysterious way. In fact, grandma was kind of mysterious always, she thought. She pulled out the key and opened the door. Of course, the wood floor creaked, and it smelled as if someone was home when clearly there was no one there. Sara pushed all these thoughts out of her mind. There was a job to do so she would get to it. In that way she and grandma were different. Sara was a fine dining server, her life was based on delivery in fast and efficient ways that appeared effortless, even though it actually took a lot of work to make things seem so easy. It always seemed like grandma had all the time in the world to just float through her days. How everyone could say they think so much alike she would never know. With the house empty, Sara had time to look around at things she hadn’t really noticed before. Everything was still in its place as if grandma had just gone outside to the garden for a minute, organizing it all was going to take some thought and planning.

Sara made her way slowly toward the kitchen and stood at the counter. It was actually kind of fun to stand there and imagine she was grandma. She looked around an imaginary family members and smiled. Then without thinking she opened the drawer and pulled out grandma’s little black book.

Snapping back to the moment she realized she always remembered grandma in the kitchen with the little black book in her hand and yet Sara had no idea what was in it. Would it be ok to look? She felt like she was spying and yet here it was. It was in great shape after so long and it had a warm comfortable feel. The cover was broken in and obviously used but it was still strong. She couldn’t help herself, she opened it.

The first page had a drawing of a wooden door, somewhat medieval, sketched in dark pencil, or charcoal, she couldn’t tell. Turning the page was like opening the door. How could a notebook be so exciting? The next page had some notes, not the kind she thought. It looked like bits and pieces of conversation. She flipped through a few more pages and they seemed to be the same. There were no dates on the pages, just small side things that had family names and things they must have said over time while in the kitchen. Several of the pages had random sketches, just thoughts saved, a bee or crayons or sunshine or clouds. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason. Wow, Sara thought, I always thought the little book was so important. Actually, it reflected grandma’s personality perfectly. Slightly random and yet always organized. As Sara flipped through the pages the only thing consistent was small markings on the bottom right corner of the right-hand pages. At first, she thought they were page numbers but they definitely were not numbers. Another random grandma item, in fact, the markings were also in different colors. Sara smiled to herself and then put the book down on the counter. It was time to get to work. The house needed to be organized with things put away until someone else arrived. It appeared that everything had just been left at a moment’s notice and grandma had raced out of the house, it all seemed a mess. Dishes, towels, laundry, magazines, food in the refrigerator, and everything was supposed to be combined in some way. Sara groaned out loud. How could anyone enjoy this type of work? She personally enjoyed going to the restaurant and having everything exactly in the same place by everyone always. There was never randomness to anything. Here without any help to organize her thoughts, she wondered how it was that grandma even thought at all. She had a big family, seven kids had grown up in this kitchen and house. Anyone else would have gone mad but somehow grandma always kept it together. Even with her last child with Down Syndrome she never really looked out of wits. Sara thought it must be in her genes or some sort of supernatural phenomenon, knowing well that these ideas were absurd. If that was the case, however, Sara didn’t have that gene and really preferred instructions to follow. Instructions always made things just so much easier.

Instead of getting frustrated Sara turned back to the counter and picked up the little black book again. She just held it in her hands and just flipped the pages quickly with her thumb. More out of habit than really thinking about it, this was the one thing she and grandma did have in common, the habit of flipping pages. It really wasn’t a useful habit, it just gave time to think sort of, or maybe just calmed their nerves and allowed them to refocus. She looked down at the flipping pages for no real reason and she saw something moving. That’s impossible she thought, there’s nothing there. She flipped the pages quickly again paying more attention to the corner. It was definitely moving but what was it? Again she flipped the pages paying very close attention. She finally made it out, it was a flower swaying in the wind and a bee coming to land on it. How was this even possible? All she had seen on each page was a scribble it seemed and yet when the page corners flipped quickly the animation began. Only grandma seemed to be able to put order to chaos. She created a flipbook to keep her smiling and to remember to look at the flowers! Looking up past the kitchen table and out the bay window Sara saw the garden full of flowers. They were all different colors and sizes. They all swayed in the wind together and the bees moved from flower to flower in the warm sunshine. It all made sense now. Grandma saw all the pieces of the house and the people in her life as flowers in the garden. All different but in so many ways the same. All intertwined but never messy. Sara turned to the counter and put down the notebook. All of a sudden the job didn’t seem so hard anymore, in fact, it was going to be fun. She looked at the notebook and said “Who would have ever known a little black book could be so important?” She opened the drawer and placed the notebook back inside. She pulled out a piece of paper and an envelope and started a letter, “Dear Mom, I’m here at grandma’s now. Things are going just fine. I was thinking, next time you’re at the bookstore can you get me a little notebook, black is fine but if there is one in turquoise I’d prefer that.

I know writing must seem so old-fashioned but it can be really cool. It will take me a couple of days here but everything is great. I think I finally figured out grandma’s trick to organizing things. See you soon, Love Sara”

She put the letter in the envelope and sealed it with one of grandma’s flower stickers. It felt awesome to be part of the garden.