Wednesday morning has arrived. I hope the weather is as beautiful as yesterday. I had so many things to do but I just kept trailing outside to sit in the swing. I will be stricter on myself today and keep my nose to the grindstone. Or at least I'll try.
I sit in the swing, under the trees and call it my green room. The trees are in full bloom with Saul and Sarah intertwined. Their branches blossomed out in green. You can hardly see the spots where one stops and the other trees branches start. The trees around us in the other yards stand straight and tall. These two stand tall except for the sides where they face each other. The branches bend out, reaching towards the other. Then when the leaves come they seem to bend farther until their leaves wind round each other. They make a green canopy across the walk leading to the house.
Brandi's boys were over a couple of weeks ago after school. Brandi's and Billie's schedules had crossed or something, so they came for a hour or so. I sat out in the yard with them, swinging in my swing. As they each would come and sit with me at different times to talk. Bradley as I wrote then talked of Abrahan Lincoln and others. Then I told him the story of "Saul and Sarah." He was very impressed, caught up with the part of their souls jumping into the trees. He asked questions, "How did they jump? Did it hurt?" Then Brett came out. Bradley hurriedly called him over, excited to tell him about the trees. Brett was semi-impressed but not as much as Bradley. Brett wandered over to the picnic table. Finally I asked Bradley, "You do know that was just a made up story?" I asked.
Bradley looked at me with total shock. His earnest little eyes boring into mine. "You lied," he whispered. "No, no," I assured him. "I didn't lie. It was just a little story I wrote for the Blog." He sadly shook his head. "There is no Saul and Sarah?" The look he gave me was accusing.
I tried to explain maybe there was a Saul and Sarah. Maybe there were two souls that were torn apart by prejudice and hate. But these two were a story I made up. "See," I asked as I waved towards the trees. "They just blend together, not like the other trees. The story may very well be true." But he wasn't buying it now. I had shattered his illusion about Saul and Sarah and it couldn't be repaired.
He called out to Brett. "There's not no Saul," he said. Shooting a whithering glance my way. "Grandma lied." Brett looked at me. "Grandma you lied?" I wanted to jump up and point at Bradley. "No, no," I wanted to scream. I wanted to say, "It was him that lied not me." But I didn't, I only dropped my head in shame. Grandma was a liar.
The moral to this story is, if you are going to weave a fantasy story to your grandkids maybe you should say a disclaimer before you start. Or you will be like me, the lying Grandma. Believe me it doesn't feel good when that happens. I've always heard, "Know your audience." Truer words were never spoken. So for now I am going to go get a cup of coffee, then edit this mess. Then I will get on with my day. Wish me luck, sometimes it can be a jungle around here.
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