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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2142610-The-Green-Afghan
by Nomad
Rated: E · Prose · Family · #2142610
This is an entry for the No Dialogue contest, the prompt being "Colors".

I remember walking into the living room of my Grandmother's house, where she would sit in her purple recliner watching Days of Our Lives- something she did every day of the week for years on end. I'd stay with her often on my summer vacations and when I did I'd watch it with her and couldn't help but get enthralled to the point where I looked forward to the next day's episode. While we watched, I'd sit in the blue rocking chair next to her with my feet up on the ottoman and covered by her green afghan.

It was just one of those constants in my life. Growing up I spent a lot of time with her after my grandfather passed away in '84. During the school year, at least once a month, my parents would drop me off on Friday afternoon and come for me on Sunday. I'd spend the weekend walking around the village with her, down Main Street where she'd always buy me the newest comic books at Curvin's and to the library where I'd take out an armload of books. Then we'd return home and I'd set up epic Star Wars battles in the backyard while she watched from her kitchen window. At night we'd watch her other favorite shows or whatever movie of the week was on Channel 2. It was my second home, that little house on Commercial Street, and when I slept there I did so underneath her green afghan.

When I would get sick, she'd take care of me. I'd lie on the couch wrapped up in that green afghan while she catered to my every whim. She'd even sit there with me while I watched cartoons, investing herself in the shows as much as I did with her soap opera. Once, during an episode of the Ninja Turtles she asked me a question about their intimate lives, pointing out that there were no females of their ilk. She was fun like that, sharing her opinions without a second thought.

After I graduated from high school and came home during breaks from college, I'd stay with her as much as I could. Even though she was getting on in years we'd still go for our walks, just shorter ones. We continued to watch Days of Our Lives and I'd still sit in the same chair using that same green afghan as a blanket.

When she became too weak to live alone, she moved in with my parents. I'd go to visit and there she'd be, in her room, that green afghan folded at the foot of her bed.

When she became too ill for my mother to take care of her, she went to the hospital. We celebrated her one-hundredth birthday in the common room, singing old Polish songs and reminiscing. She wore a huge smile the whole time, even without that green afghan.

The day we laid her to rest, I spoke at the front of the church about my life with my grandmother. I told the stories from my childhood and my memories of her from over the years. That night I went home to my apartment and sank into my chair, wrapped in her green afghan.

© Copyright 2017 Nomad (nomad42 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2142610-The-Green-Afghan