To Grandmother's House We Go

February 9th was a cold and damp morning. I opened one eye but the sun that fell through the crack in the curtains was so blinding I quickly turned my back to the window. My body didn’t want to get up. That was most morning these days. Feeling too heavy to start my day. Chicago in the winters is something you never get used to. But today there was sun.

It still didn’t make it easier to wake up. All days felt melted together. Living in a pandemic, losing my job almost a year ago, moving back in with my parent at the age of 31, being single, having no real reason to wake up but for the dog, made life feel less exciting.

Before I rolled out of bed I took my phone off it’s charger and opened up my email. Another job rejection letter sitting in my inbox. I didn’t even have to open it to know what it said:

“Thank you for taking the time to apply with us. Unfortunately, we have decided to move forward with another candidate. Good luck….”

This became part of my morning routine. More days than not there was a rejection letter in my inbox. it started to feel as if Im treading water and as every day passes I start to grow a little more tired and sink a little further into the water. One day I’ll drown, but not today.

It can’t be today. My grandmother had passed a few months ago and today was the last day before we turned the house over to its new owners. I had to go pick up a mirror I was given after she passed. It was grand and beautiful with an ornate glass design the wrapped around the mirror. It looked like one of those mirrors you would find in an old victorian home.

This mirror pops up in memories throughout my childhood. It sat on a wall in the “fancy pink room” of my grandmother’s home. This was the name of the room the grandchildren came up with because it was the one living room area that was nicer than the rest. It housed all the expensive furniture, the crystal, and had a blush pink carpet. As grandchildren we always ran around the house, but was never allowed to run in the pink room. And we never broke that rule. Our grandmother was a gentle soul but when she got mad it was a whole other monster. She was the mother of eleven and a grandmother to thirty-six. She had to know how to keep everyone in line.

As I got dressed to drive over and pick up this mirror I kept seeing things that prompted memories to flash across my mind like an old movie on a projector. I put on the ring that was on my night stand. A ring my grandmother gave me one simple Friday afternoon. A beautiful pearl and diamond ring. It was a year or so ago when she gave it to me and I think she was trying to get give aways all her nice jewelry before she passed.

I will never forget, we were at one of her friend’s wake. I can’t remember who. My grandmother at the time was unable to stand up straight so she was in a wheelchair. My job was to stay by her and keep her comfortable. I was sitting on the arm of this old dusty couch and she was beside me when she put her hand on my knee. On her pinky ring she was wearing the ring. A gold band with this intricate circle of diamonds and in the middle was a pearl. One of the prettiest rings I have ever seen, and casually I said to my grandmother

“Wow, grandma I love your ring.”

“You can have it then.” She slipped it off her finger, places it in the palm of my hand, looked up at me, smiled, then winked. It was a small moment, but one I would never forget.

I drove over to my grandmother’s house for the last time. The thought that this house was no longer going to a destination in my life again was overwhelming. The past thirty years I drove to her house for every thanksgiving and every Christmas day. Running late almost every year. Memories of being eight years old coming over so excited to visit my cousins who were visiting from Singapore came rushing back. When that 7 minute drive felt like 7 hours. Going to grandma’s was never going to be a thing again.

As I pulled into the half circle driveway I caught a glimpse of the rock sitting at the end of her driveway. The amount of times the grandchildren would back up out of the driveway and run over that rock are uncountable. Every time one of us would get behind the wheel, “ Don’t forget about the rock!” would be screamed from one of the parents.

There are only a few cars in the driveway today. My mothers, and my uncle Rick’s. I walked into the empty house and my stomach dropped. The emptiness was just too loud. Right to the left of the front door was the fancy pink room. The room was completely empty. No big floral couches, no big green chairs, no glass coffee table. The only thing in the room was my mirror leaning up against the wall. This beautiful elegant mirror on the floor almost felt disrespectful. My mother and uncle were in the next room cleaning out the last few things in the den starting with the drawers in the bar.

I turned my back to the pink room and went to say hello. It was too sad to confront that mirror right away.

“Hey, mom. Uncle rick.” I said with a head nod and a wave. It was awkward, but it is a pandemic so you never know who is hugging these days.

“Oh, yes, your mirror is in the other room. I think it is kind of falling apart though. Why don’t you go look at it and tell me if it worth keeping. I have to finish this room with Rick.”

I agreed and slowly turned again to approach the mirror. As I got closer I noticed there were a few places where the intricate glass pattern was falling to the ground. Some pieces were dangling off the side but the mirror itself was in great condition. As I leaned the mirror forward to check the back I noticed a tear in the backing. It looked almost deliberate. Too clean a cut to blame old age. As I examined it closer I noted something popping out from behind the paper. I slowly placed the mirror on the ground in order to get a better look. There was definitely something tucked into the back of this mirror. I reached my hand into the back of the mirror and pulled out a little black notebook.

As I opened the book something told me that this was a secret. Whoever put this book in this mirror did not want anyone to find it. I hesitantly started reading. To my surprise these note just seemed like random thoughts. One page was even a grocery list. I was about to call it a day, but then I got to one of the last pages. Written were two words circled about 100 times.“Stereo. $$” and a key was taped to the page. I had no idea what this meant. Was there money in the stereo? I needed to find out.

I walked into the den past my mother and uncle who had since moved on from the drawers and were chatting about something they didn’t want me to hear because the closer I got the softer they talked. I heard the word sobriety, but half my family are alcoholics so I had no idea who they were referring to. I decided to quickly dismiss and ignore.

I approached the stereo that was sitting on a shelf in the back corner of the room. It was one of the only things left in the den at the time. I examined it to see if there was anywhere this key could fit. The stereo was too small to fit any real sum of money in it. I checked in and around the whole self. There was no secret hole in the wall or anything. I even checked the fireplace but there was nothing to find.

I let it go. Maybe there was no money. Maybe it was already gone. Some one could have found it while cleaning out the house. I put the key in my jean pocket and loaded the mirror into my car. I help my mom and uncle finish up the den and load the old stereo into my uncles car.

The house was empty now. No one lived there. It was just a bunch of walls with old carpet on the floors and horrible wallpaper wrapping the rooms. The happy memories filled with people laughing and family gatherings echoed in this empty house.

My mother and I decided to take one last look at every room in the house. My mom took out her phone and decided she wanted to record this last walk through. I wasn’t sure how having a recording of this empty house would do anything other than remind you of this sad moment, but somehow my mom thought it would bring her comfort. So, we started to walk the house as my mother filmed recounting stories from each room.

We walked around the main floor first. Recording the empty hallway where the family pictures hung. We walked passed the bedrooms that would house all the visiting relatives throughout the years. We even recorded the empty room where my grandmother passed peacefully in her sleep. We continued to the kitchen and then the dinning room. Off the dining room were stairs that went up to two bedrooms and the attic.

As we climbed the stairs memories of sliding down on couch cushions replayed in my mind. My cousins and I used to love to load the bottom of the stairs with pillows and use the stairs as a slide. The amount of times I almost peed my pants from laughing so hard is too many to count. We continued past the attic and the first bedroom and got to the back bedroom where as kids we would blast music, jump on the beds, and play truth or dare.

It hit me and I froze.

As my mother continued to walk back down the hall with her phone in hand I stayed. The music we listened to came from an old school stereo that sat on shelf in the corner that was carved out of the wall. I walked over to the shelf and my eye immediately caught a little slit in the wallpaper.

“This can’t be real” I thought to myself.

As I rip the wallpaper back it exposed a hole carved into the wall. I looked in the wall and saw something shiny but could quite make out what it was. I reached my hand into the wall and I felt a box.

“I can’t believe I found it.” I said aloud.

I took the box out of the wall and wiped off all the dust. It was a safe box and it needed a key and I had it.

I took the key out of my pocket and I opened the safe. $20,000 stared right back at me. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe it. I not only found the money but it was such a large amount. $20,000!

Sitting on top of this money was a note that read:

“Julia’s ransom”

“But wait,” I thought, “Who wanted to kidnap my grandmother?”