Relief |
She leaned against a peeling pillar on the rickety porch with her hand extended just beyond its metal covering. The cool droplets of water splattered against her palm and made the sound of high pitched piano keys as they puddled in her hand. When her palm began to overflow, she brought it closer and allowed the cooling sensation to wash over her face as well. To me it was only rain, but to her it was relief.
She peered out into her yard and studied the two majestic pine trees that towered over her dilapidated home. She remembered them as saplings on the day my grandfather planted them there sixty years ago; their symbolism of two people beginning a new life together. Her brow wrinkled, and caused her eyes to narrow, as her thoughts raced through those sixty years. When the wind whistled through the two pines, I watched her ears perk up like a wolf in the wild. She heard the pines whispering her sixty years of secrets. Black eyes shrouded behind sunglasses, bruises hidden under long sleeves, busted lips concealed under coats of red lipstick.
With her innate Southern grace in tact, she moved off the porch at the lethargic pace of a woman approaching eighty. Before entering the barn, she tilted her head back and allowed the rain to slick through her wispy strands of gray hair. A peculiar smile stretched across her face as the rain dibbled from her lips and ran down her neck.
“Grandma,” I called to her while trying to reason through my own confusion.
Her sea colored eyes rolled over to me as the smile stretched more so and smoothed her skin some. Reclaimed youth caused her to stretch her arms to either side and wiggle her hips a bit. She danced as the relief of the rain soaked through her hair and deposited in the crevices on her skin that remained despite her smoothing smile.
“Grandma, you’re going to get sick from being out there in that rain.”
She waved her hand to me in dismissal of my observation. Her dance concluded with a clap of her hands above her head and made rain water splatter from her fingertips. She brought her clasped hands to her chest, closed her eyes, and mumbled a silent prayer that only God and the majestic pines could hear. With further dismissal, she released the feelings of fear and loathing from the last sixty years.
At the conclusion of her prayer, she continued her lethargic pace into the barn. A few disturbingly quiet minutes past in her disappearance and caused me to take a step down from the porch in search of her.
When the sound of a loud sputtering motor rumbled through the quiet, and a cloud of dark smoke wafted from the barn carrying the fumes of burning diesel fuel, I leapt over the last couple steps of the porch and ran over to the barn. “Grandma,” I shouted while waving my hands.
The peculiar smile returned as she revved the motor. The sound of the sputtering motor thwacked between the barn walls and the diesel cloud choked the air. Her smile widened as she put the tractor in gear. It jerked forward in haste of starting its mission and made me jump out of the way of its path. With as much speed as she could garner, she sped the tractor across the yard towards the majestic pines.
“Grand…,” I said before coughing and choking on the remnant fumes.
A loud crackle trembled from one of the pines, resembling the sound of a gunshot in the distance. The tree swayed from first blow of the tractor and caused crows to squawk off into the dreary, gray sky as they warned of the disturbance. She tossed her head back and cackled as she put the tractor in reverse before making it lunge at the pine a second time. Again, it crackled and swayed after the blow and pine needles joined the rain droplets in falling to the ground. The third blow echoed the sound of splitting wood through the air and delivered the scent of fresh pine. With her final blow, the majestic pine buckled and exposed its lightened innards at its splintered base. The wind whistled around the toppling tree as it cut through the air on its way to the ground.
I watched as remorse intruded on her celebration. She stared at the toppled pine for a few minutes and wiped her eyes at its conclusion.
When she completed her condolences, she climbed out of the tractor. Once again, she stretched her arms out to either side, wiggled her hips a bit, and titled her head to the sky to feel the relief of the falling rain. In a voice that rivaled the thwacks of the tractor motor and the buckling pine, she yelled, "Good fucking riddance!”