Nana

2nd Prize winner in: "Jump off from here Contest"  - Round 4.

Nana

My grandmother sat in the corner, her hands clasped together in her lap, a tea-towel spread out on her knee. I had always been weary of her, she was slow and frail - and would never understand my love of football and other things that 7 year old boys got up to. Her face began to move, like crinkled paper that just wouldn’t smooth out.
“My boy,” She began, her voice like gravel in her throat, “Would you like a cup of tea?”
“Nana,” I replied, a slight sigh escaping my lips, “I don’t drink tea.”
She asked me the very same question every single time mother and I went to visit.
“Doesn’t she know I’m not old enough for tea mum?” I’d repeat every time we left the bungalow.
“She doesn’t remember son.” Mum would say.

I sank into a greying armchair on the opposite side of the room.
“How are you Nana?” I asked my grandmother politely. It always took a few moments of silence before the gravelly-voice would respond.
“Oh fine my boy, Mrs Jenkins from next door passed through a lovely roast dinner yesterday for me. Very nice lady you know.”
“That’s good.” I replied quietly. I wasn't ever interested.
My grandmother brought her mug to her mouth and missed, spilling a little tea down her front. I don’t even think she noticed.
“You know, in my day the whole street used to get together sometimes on a sunny day. We’d bring pitchers and jugs of juice and plates of food. And the little ones would play out on the road together.” She sank her head back to the chair. “They were good days.”

I excused myself from the room and went to the bathroom. My grandmother’s bungalow was small and dark, but as I walked down the hallway I noticed a new photograph hanging on the wall that I’d never seen before.
It was in black and white, of a proud looking woman with a pretty face and broad shoulders. She had a bunch of flowers pinned into her hair and wore a lace top or dress, I couldn’t tell which because the photograph stopped just below her shoulders.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the picture. The lady looked so strong and important. As I made my way back from the bathroom I began to wonder who the figure was.

I asked my Grandmother.
“Oh my dear boy,” She replied, a wistful smile passing across her paper face. “That was me when I was just a teenager.”
I had never thought of my crinkly grandmother as a young girl and my mind began to tick over.
What was she like?
Where did she go?
What did she get up to?
Suddenly I had a hundred questions to ask my Nana. That afternoon had started out quiet and uncomfortable, but our chatter from then on didn’t stop until it was time to leave.
“Bye bye Nana!” I cried as I left, “You can tell me more next time!”
“Bye bye my boy,” Nana replied, “I’ll see you again soon...”

I smiled as I turned and walked down the front path. I was glad I’d seen that picture. I’m sure my Nana was glad of it too.