a dream about granny
Writing prompt:
'Behind the curtain, I imagine it's different...'Doesn't have to be a living room curtain, it could be a stage curtain or a hospital curtain or a shower curtain or perhaps the 'curtain' whatever we draw around ourselves when we need privacy.
I follow Leena Norms and she does a great news letter with a different prompt every week (and book recommendations and other bits). If you search leena norms on Youtube and Insta, you’ll find her. So I’m just going to share that writing here...
a dream about granny
She’s not dead. She’s sitting up and having the craic and asking for another hot whiskey. Sure if you’re boiling the kettle anyway. It’d be rude not to.
Pass no remarks, she says, to any problem you could possibly have. A go with the flow kind of grandmother. I’d like to think she was really saying ‘nobody gives a fuck’. Like no one really cares what you are doing, they are more worried about themselves. So don’t judge them. And don’t be worried what they’re thinking.
She’s alive. She’s up and knitting a new jumper for the weein. Our Sarah had a baby the other week and sure I haven’t sent a thing. I chose yellow. I know these days the boys don’t have to be wearing blue all the time. Sure it doesn’t matter. Plenty of good people are colour blind. Sure you know yourself. That’s cat altogether, girls wearing pink when they’re just out, sure no need. And sure it’ll go better with the rua. A pink jumper with red hair, Jesus Christ...
She’s breathing. I can hold her hand and she squeezes mine back. She’s reassured by my hand in hers. It keeps her calm. It stops her asking if she can go home, when she’s in her own house.
She’s smiling. She’s sitting on her chair by the range. I make her a cup of tea. Are you worried about running out of milk, pet? Another wee drop, and sure since you’re up there’s club bars in the tin.
She’s dancing. I met your grandad at the dance, you know. At the Hall. Sure it was a grand night out back then. It was the only place to be going to be fair.
She knows who I am. And she tells me stories about when I was wee and tells me stories of when she was wee. Tells me all about her mammy. The singer. She was in showbands and traveled around. Sure that’s where you get it from, sure you have a lovely voice, give us a wee tune there now. You’re praising God when you sing, you know. That’s where you got the itchy feet, sure it was from Bella Anderson herself. She’s the fire in your heart, girl.