option I'd be willing to accept. I inhaled and exhaled slowly, hoping that by the time I'd expended all my air that I would have been pleasantly surprised to find the kitchen had come equipped with some fast-acting self-cleaning mechanism and every knife, spoon, spatula, pot, pan, and thingamajig – that's what they're officially called, right – would have been put back into their designated places and ready to be used the next time some desperate traveler was anxious to get out of the gore fest that was this vacation destination.
I had a meal to prepare and not much time to get it done. Chip was oblivious to the time as he continued to tear the kitchen apart in search of whatever it was he was looking for.
He threw his hands up in the air in frustration and stormed out of the room without another word to us.
I looked over at Jessica, who I'd given a chair to as soon as her search began, and asked, “Now, what am I supposed to do? Clean up or work around it?”
She looked around at the detritus and giggled. “I wish I knew what to tell you. How about we just move stuff aside and worry about it after breakfast?”
“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed. “Thanks for your help, but I'm sure you're really tired. You really don't have to stay. Why don't go on up to your room and get some rest before breakfast? I can handle this alone.” I tried to avert my eyes from the disaster and pretend that it wasn't there.
“No, I'm fine. I'll help you,” she answered. “I'll whip up some muffins, if that's okay with you? What were you planning to make this morning?”
“Oh, I forgot. Muffins sound great. Thank you. Now that we're alone, we can chat and get to each other. It will be fun.” I started a pot of coffee for her and I to share.
Jessica was such a sweet woman. I thought she was so brave for doing what she was doing. I could only hope that when I was her age, I'd go after my dream too.
As someone who grew up in a multi-generational home, I adored senior citizens. I had so much respect for them and had learned so much from them over the years. Perhaps, that's why Nubbin – my old curmudgeon friend – was so special to me. He reminded me of my grandfather, a warm man with a penchant for grumpiness.
“Is today your birthday?” Jessica asked.
Oh, that.
“No, my birthday is tomorrow. This trip is a birthday gift from my daughter and my best friend, Ruby. I'm afraid, though, that it's going to end up costing me quite a bit of money. My car died yesterday.” I explained.
Jessica turned from the bowl of ingredients she'd begun to mix and touched her small, frail hand to my arm. “I'm so sorry to hear that. Will they be able to get it repaired quickly?”
I giggled. “You haven't seen my car, have you? It is about as old as my daughter, but runs like something fifty times its age. I love it; don't get me wrong, but she's been begging to be let go for years and my friends and family have been begging me to let it go for almost a decade now. The mechanic said he'd have to order a part or two, so I'm not sure exactly how long it will take or how long we'll be here.”
“Not much of a birthday, is it?” Jessica mused.
“No, but I'll live.” I gasped at my word choice. “I mean, I'll survive.” I had to stifle a laugh. Nothing I said seemed appropriate considering that we'd both witnessed a man die a few feet from where we stood.
Jessica continued mixing the ingredients. “Such a shame. He was such a young man. I wonder what happened.”
I wasn't sure whether or not to make mention of how I'd been feeling about his death. It was too early to be morbid. I thought it better to change the subject.
“Did you hear anything unusual last night?” I asked.
Jessica considered for a moment. “No, nothing unusual. Why, did you hear something?” She put her hand to her mouth. “Do you mean ghosts?”
Please don't tell me that
I had a meal to prepare and not much time to get it done. Chip was oblivious to the time as he continued to tear the kitchen apart in search of whatever it was he was looking for.
He threw his hands up in the air in frustration and stormed out of the room without another word to us.
I looked over at Jessica, who I'd given a chair to as soon as her search began, and asked, “Now, what am I supposed to do? Clean up or work around it?”
She looked around at the detritus and giggled. “I wish I knew what to tell you. How about we just move stuff aside and worry about it after breakfast?”
“Sounds like a plan.” I agreed. “Thanks for your help, but I'm sure you're really tired. You really don't have to stay. Why don't go on up to your room and get some rest before breakfast? I can handle this alone.” I tried to avert my eyes from the disaster and pretend that it wasn't there.
“No, I'm fine. I'll help you,” she answered. “I'll whip up some muffins, if that's okay with you? What were you planning to make this morning?”
“Oh, I forgot. Muffins sound great. Thank you. Now that we're alone, we can chat and get to each other. It will be fun.” I started a pot of coffee for her and I to share.
Jessica was such a sweet woman. I thought she was so brave for doing what she was doing. I could only hope that when I was her age, I'd go after my dream too.
As someone who grew up in a multi-generational home, I adored senior citizens. I had so much respect for them and had learned so much from them over the years. Perhaps, that's why Nubbin – my old curmudgeon friend – was so special to me. He reminded me of my grandfather, a warm man with a penchant for grumpiness.
“Is today your birthday?” Jessica asked.
Oh, that.
“No, my birthday is tomorrow. This trip is a birthday gift from my daughter and my best friend, Ruby. I'm afraid, though, that it's going to end up costing me quite a bit of money. My car died yesterday.” I explained.
Jessica turned from the bowl of ingredients she'd begun to mix and touched her small, frail hand to my arm. “I'm so sorry to hear that. Will they be able to get it repaired quickly?”
I giggled. “You haven't seen my car, have you? It is about as old as my daughter, but runs like something fifty times its age. I love it; don't get me wrong, but she's been begging to be let go for years and my friends and family have been begging me to let it go for almost a decade now. The mechanic said he'd have to order a part or two, so I'm not sure exactly how long it will take or how long we'll be here.”
“Not much of a birthday, is it?” Jessica mused.
“No, but I'll live.” I gasped at my word choice. “I mean, I'll survive.” I had to stifle a laugh. Nothing I said seemed appropriate considering that we'd both witnessed a man die a few feet from where we stood.
Jessica continued mixing the ingredients. “Such a shame. He was such a young man. I wonder what happened.”
I wasn't sure whether or not to make mention of how I'd been feeling about his death. It was too early to be morbid. I thought it better to change the subject.
“Did you hear anything unusual last night?” I asked.
Jessica considered for a moment. “No, nothing unusual. Why, did you hear something?” She put her hand to her mouth. “Do you mean ghosts?”
Please don't tell me that
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