Gripping the bed sheets beneath me I tighten my entire body, “Breathe, just breathe.” The self-advice is worthless because my little chest feels as though the house came crashing down on top of it. I throw the covers off my stiff body and feel the soft carpet beneath my toes as I race to the hallway into the black. Spreading my arms out wide, my small fingertips trace the walls and guide me to her room.
I gently twist the door knob as I feel my heart aching more for the anticipation of relief. I scamper to her side and pat my hand on her shoulder as I whisper, “Gram! Gram! It’s happened again.” She mumbles something softly as she slowly rises out of her sheets and grabs a bathrobe, small foam mattress, and a familiar cassette tape. I clasp her hand as we begin our descent down the darkened stairs to the family room.
She directs me to the foam mattress as she inserts the cassette tape into the stereo, “Take a deep breath, Kristen. You will be alright.” I try but my lungs are so shallow and my head feels light; death is coming to take me. As I feel I have breathed my final breath, I notice a soft, warm hand gently squeezing my arm, “Shhh…there you go. Breathe in, breathe out. Listen to the tape.” It is then that I notice a man’s deep soothing voice requesting that I notice my feet. He says they are feeling heavier and heavier, more and more relaxed, and that my body is healthy and relaxed. I am able to swallow more air, my lungs begin to open, and my chest is freer now. My thoughts change to the possibility of living. I continue to listen to the man and Gram’s sweet voice in my ear as I float to a happier place.
The smell of coffee, peanut butter, and syrup drifts through the air as I come to. It must be morning. I stagger into the kitchen to see Papa reading the newspaper with his morning coffee and Gram applying her concoction of smooth peanut butter and syrup to a Ritz cracker. She smiles as I enter the room, “Good morning, Kristen. How are you feeling?” “I’m good, just cold,” I exclaim as I duck under the kitchen table to sit over the floor heater. Suddenly a hand appears under the table reaching out to me with a cracker and a yummy topping on it. I smile and take it munching as I listen to them discuss the news.
Gram says we need to help Mom around the house a little bit more. She takes me to the hall mirror, one of my favorite spots to play pretend, and asks me if I will clean it with an old rag and some Windex. She shows me how on a little spot and it seems simple enough. As I wipe I pretend to be Cinderella, and then the Karate Kid, “Wax on, wax off.” When I’m finished I get to pick a prize out of the gift basket. The Gram basket is full of things like little lotions, soaps, and other treats that make me feel more grown up.
As I finish I walk to her room. She has coins lying all over the bed and a small rectangular book next to them. “You made a mess, Gram.” She giggles, “I want to teach you some things about money. Show me how to count these coins.” We work on adding and subtracting the coins for a while and then she grabs the mysterious rectangular book, “This is a checkbook.” She had me practice the right way to write a check, “Gram, why do you have to spell out the number of dollars when you’ve already written it here?” “That’s just the way it is.”
I moved on to write a short story on the computer. I contemplated what it could be about….the kid that loves her dog? No, that’s been done. Oh! A giant spider that attacks a school bus full of children…that’s the one. I typed, just as Gram had showed me, and read my story to her several moments later. “That’s fantastic, Kristen! You’re an excellent writer.” I grinned sheepishly.
Off to the basement! I yelled for my sister and brother to come downstairs. It was time for dress- up. Gram found a large box of dress-up clothes, hats, and costume jewelry at a local donation center. My favorite outfit was a long reddish dress with white trimming and small slits at the bottom that allowed me to swirl around and make it look like an umbrella that could take off to the moon at any second. My little brother, dressed in his favorite cowboy outfit, rescued me from the ‘wicked princess’. (aka my big sister). He only felt obligated to be a hero for one scene as he quickly determined that being evil was more fun and repeatedly ‘shot me dead’ for the next half hour. Annoyed that he wouldn’t stop, I ran to Gram.
“Gram, Jeremy won’t play nice.” “Take a deep breath, Kristen. It will be alright.” “But he--,” “Take a deep breath.” In through the nostrils, chest rising, out through the mouth. I gave her the pouty, ‘This isn’t helping,’ look. “Okay, the thing with brothers is that they feed off of the attention you give them. If you ignore him, he will stop. If he knows he is annoying you, he will continue to.” I thought this concept was ridiculous adult babble but trial and error showed, it worked.
That night we had a ladies-only tea party. Gram pulled out a gleaming silver tray with a small white tea pot and miniature cups whose holders fit my tiny fingers just perfectly. I helped her set the table and make snacks of small cheese squares on round crackers. She called them something fancy, “hors d’oeuvres.” The tea was called, “Sleepytime,” and I hadn’t realized it might be a trick.
When I found out four years later that my family, minus my grandparents, would be moving several states away, I panicked. “Kristen, always remember I am a phone call away. You can call me, no matter what time it is, okay?” I fought back tears and realized, at the age of eleven, it was now time to grow up. To let go of the relationship I knew of Gram and transition to a new one. ‘That’s just the way it is.’
After we moved, I sobbed as if she had died. I didn’t know how to be without her. A phone call only gave me her sweet, happy voice. It didn’t provide her tea parties, daily life lessons, or warm, gentle hugs. I called her as often as I could, though. We would enjoy our talks and I always knew she was there for me.
To this day, at thirty one years old, I still enjoy our phone calls. And when I have that feeling, that tight chest, no-air-to-breathe kind of feeling, I hear Gram’s sweet little voice in my head, “Take a deep breath, Kristen. You will be alright.”
