Family

FAR FROM HOME

 

The large white shingle house is our home, has been a Rumsfield home for over one hundred years. It sits on an acre of land close enough to Middle River to bring joy to all the children who were born and lived here back in the horse and buggy days to the now of space travel.

 

Winter storms surely weren't much different years ago. They are still rough. Cold winds blow in from the river. Windows rattle. We eat what is in the larders, use flash lights instead of candles in emergencies that still happen. Spring smells good. Flowers grow. Buffy and Bucky, our gorgeous Labrador retrievers, romp near the narrow beach, play games with the gentle waves that touch the shore. As the weather warms to hot, toddlers and parents spend hours looking across the water, watching the sun glow orange, its shadow rippling in the waves.
Sand castles, moats are still in style. Big colorful umbrellas protect us from the ultra violet rays of doom. We picnic outside at least once a week and reminisce about our past and delve, over and over, into the history of our house, our family.

 

Rumfield's twelve rooms exude memories, take us back in time to meet our ancestors. Greta, my great-great grandmother and Clarence my great-great grandfather, we have read, labored together for three years to lay the foundation for this grandiose house. When they finally moved in, so did their parents with two adult children, one named Miranda and the other Elizabeth. Both of them died in the influenza epidemic of 1915.

 

I feel the history of our home. In fact, I truly believe I can hear ghost voices now and then. They never frighten me. I talk to them and most likely just imagine their answers, but maybe not. An aura of peace and pleasure seeps thru our newly tiled bathrooms. The fabrics everywhere that were unheard of when Clarence and Greta started digging fill each room. Comfort, the wonderful comfort of heat and air conditioning seem heaven sent. We know, we are sure, we are a history book all by ourselves.

 

My granddaughter is getting married this June! Preparations are moving along swiftly. Cindy  wants to wear my mother's wedding gown that needs only a good airing and a few darts. Murray doesn't really want an old fashioned wedding in the Church by the River. He is such a sweet, understanding young man he bows to his future wife's wishes.

 

If they choose to, they may have the largest bedroom in our big, old, warm house for as long as they wish. I feel a bit of stress when Murray wants a modern apartment close to his office. The lovebirds talk it over and over, look at a few empty apartments across the river.

 

Truly I try not to pressure them but dread the thought they will leave us. It begins to eat into my gut, my heart. Last Wednesday night the rustle of my grandmother's dress woke me from a deep sleep. I saw right thru Grandma Millicent. She didn't speak but came close and touched my stomach. Just the way she came into the room, silently she left. Did her visit give me the chills or am I making myself sick?

 

The answer is clear when I gag, lose my breath having my morning orange juice. Lunches for the next few days don't sit well with me. I say nothing to anyone, blame it on nerves, but know better. I cannot mess up this wedding and believe I am putting on a good show, making all the arrangements, getting the invitations approved and mailed, hiring a three piece band. Oh, so much to do with and without Cindy's help.

 

The wedding is only four  weeks away and I have lost weight, look sallow. No one mentions my appearance to me. I don't need a doctor because I know I am sick, really sick and must hide it as long as I can. Grandma  Millicent comes into my room almost every night. She sits on the edge of my bed. I talk to her. I feel a warmth come from her hands. Her face is clear and sad. Thinking that I am going to leave here, not be at my daughter's wedding, is enough to make me worse. Eating is next to impossible but I try. My grandmother brings her mother and father to stand in my room. They are as gray as ashes from a beach barbecue.

 

Cindy is on my neck. Insists I have to see a doctor. I lie and tell her I did, make up a whole big story that I have a slight intestinal problem that will be taken care of by the medication he has put me on. She hugs me and makes me promise to eat more.

 

When Grandma Millicent enters my room a week before the wedding, she brings my Great-grandmother Greta and great-grandfather Clarence. They walk around me, make a small circle, and invite me to go with them. I cannot refuse.

 

I watch the wedding from a fluffy soft white cloud, see Cindy in my grandmother's gown, see clearly my daughters messed up make-up running down her teary face. The affair has been made smaller. There is no music.

 

When it is over and Cindy and Murray move into the biggest bedroom in Rumfield's, I find peace with the family I never knew and with god.