Page 5 of Aftersome
“Hey, I didn’t know you were going to stop by tonight,” I announced while offering a helping hand.
“I didn’t either, but I made a bunch of baked ziti that Greg and I will never finish and thought you might like some.”
“Well, you thought right. I haven’t had dinner yet and I’m starving.” Taking the top two containers from her, I began to walk toward the front door of my house with Shelia following behind.
“It should last you a couple of days if you don’t feel like cooking anything for lunch or dinner.”
Using one hand, I opened the door and stepped inside.
“I haven’t had a chance to get to the store yet, so this is perfect.” I beamed while we both removed our shoes and made our way into my quaint little kitchen. Along the way, I couldn’t help but swell in pride as we passed by the wall of photos.
With the help of Greg and Shelia, this place went from looking like a complete dumpster fire to something that made my heart flutter every time I stepped foot inside. From the neutral colors of the walls to the small little touches we added to every room, it finally felt like home.
“Well, I know how you feel about cooking.” She chuckled. “I figured you’d be taking a break from using the oven anyway.”
A few weeks ago, after catching my dinner on fire and having the fire department show up, I swore off using the oven and stove for a while. The last thing I wanted was a repeat of that night, so for now, I’ve been making crappy microwaveable meals until I found the courage to use it again.
“I think it’s cursed.” I frowned and shot a brief glare at the GE Appliance. “I’ve had issues with it ever since I bought it.”
Shelia smiled.
“Issues?” She chuckled while setting the containers on the counter. “Hence why I’m apprehensive to use it again.” I laughed along with her as I rummaged through the cabinet for some bowls. “I’ve had nightmares about it spontaneously turning on and exploding. If oven-phobia is a thing, I definitely have it.”
Pulling two bowls from the top shelf, I brought them over to the center island where I silently offered to fill one for her, but she shook her head and whispered, “No, thank you.”
Nodding, I used a spoon to transfer over the pasta to my bowl.
“Well, I don’t blame you,” she agreed on a laugh while pulling out a stool and sitting down. “If I almost burned our house down, I’d have nightmares too.”
Smiling, I slid my bowl across the counter and took a seat next to Shelia.
“So, where’s Greg? I was surprised to see he wasn’t with you,” I asked while filling my mouth with a savory bite of saucy noodles and cheese.
“He fell asleep on the couch after dinner.” She chuckled on a grin. “You know how he gets after eating. Always thinking he needs a nap after a meal.”
Smiling, I shoveled another bite into my mouth and peered over at the woman beside me. For a second, I found myself lost watching her.
Physically, she was the same, just older. Soft age lines covered her face while her once golden hair was now a mixture of gray streaks and muted blonde. But I hardly paid any attention to her aging. Twenty or eighty, Shelia would always be beautiful.
Now when I looked at her, I only saw strength. I saw the resilience of a mother and how she overcame something that could have easily broken her down. In her own turmoil and grievance, she guided me through my own suffering. We cried together. Listened to one another. And during those agonizing years of confusion and acceptance, we formed a bond that was now unbreakable.
She was my family.
Greg and Shelia both, and I couldn’t bear the thought of ever leaving them. It felt like a sledgehammer to the chest, so I quickly shook off the thought before it became any more painful.
“How’s your writing going?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you post anything for a while now.”
My cheeks immediately went hot. Shelia knew about my blog since the day I started it. She encouraged me to write and aftermonths of contemplating, I finally did it and I haven’t looked back since. I poured my heart and soul into what I shared with the world and unbeknownst to me, there were thousands of other people out there who had felt the same. Grieving spouses, heartbroken mothers and fathers, they somehow found my stories and began to share their own anguish.Blue’s Words,I had named it. A space where I’d share memories, or thoughts, and others could share their own.
It became a safe space for many. Free of judgment, we all just wanted to be heard. To tell our stories. To keep the memory of our loved ones alive.
“Um, it’s going okay.” I chuckled as I set my fork down. “I’ve been struggling a bit with what to write next, but I’m sure I’ll be able to think of something soon.”
Giving me a brief smile, she rested her hand on top of my arm and gave me a squeeze.
“I’m sure you will.” She squeezed my arm once more. For a minute, she appeared to be lost in thought. With her stare heavy on the profile of my face, I prepared myself for an onslaught of emotions. “I’m so proud of you, you know?”
My throat hardened from her words. Her beautiful eyes glistened with tears and immediately I looked away before I erupted myself.
