In the sidebar is a link to The One Minute Writer. I've been going to that site most mornings for a few years and writing a three or four sentences inspired by their daily prompts. A little mental exercise. On Fridays they have a fiction prompt and allow more time than one minute. It is to be short fiction but may take longer. Sometimes, both daily and Friday, the prompts don't suggest anything to me. Usually I take the prompt and do "free writing" without planning where the story will go. Now and then my piece of fiction is chosen the best for that Friday. That happened for last Friday's piece. The prompt was "I've waited for this day."
I'm sharing it here because it seems fitting for my general theme of aging. In fact I've never been with anyone when he or she died and I certainly don't have a wealthy grandparent to leave everything to me. What surprised me was the end that evolved. So here it its:
Today is the day I have been waiting for! I have dreamed of it as
long as I've been able to understand what it would mean. This morning
Grandfather died. He was a dear old man who loved me very much -- not
as much as he loved mother but after mother and father's little Cesna
went down in the Sierra Nevada, I have been the object of his
affection. Do I sound happy Grandfather is dead? No. I am not happy. I
am heart broken. He was sweet to me. When I was small he read books to
me and later took me on long hikes in the mountains. Of course he paid
for my schooling and everything I needed -- or didn't really need, like
the Audi he gave me for my 16th birthday. Yes, I loved him.
But I always knew that when he died, I would inherit everything. What
would I do with it? I used to dream about that: a trip around the
world. An expedition to climb Everest, setting up a clinic in Nairobi
to cure malaria. Oh, I dreamed selfish and I dreamed philanthropic. Oh,
how I dreamed! All the world would be mine. Girls -- then when I grew
older, I realize it would be women -- would flock to me. Whether I
flaunted my wealth or was modest and did good works, I would have my
choice of women. So I truly loved grandfather but I often dreamed he
He has died! I was with him last night at the hospice when he
breathed his last. But before that he opened his weary eyes, he hadn't
spoken for a week but his eyes were as clear as ever. They looked at me,
deep into me, He reached out and grabbed my knee with a skeletal right
hand and clasped it like a hawk grasps a sparrow. "It's all yours. It's all maya, money is only an idea. Only life is real. Do you understand?"
The mid-70s are a surprise! Part of me remains in the 50s -- age, I mean, not decade of 20th century. It's a joy ride, new experiences land in my lap and I've become a better quilter, poet, writer than I expected. It's a rich life for a person never rich financially. Hey, this is what the mid-70s are like!