Random Childhood Memory

Nothing brings me back to the fourth grade like one of those barrel kool-aid drinks. You know, those bright blue, red, purple drinks that stain horribly, are a pain to open without spilling, and are really kind of gross? Yeah, those. They're also cheap, which is why my favorite Sunday School teachers in the world bought them every single week to serve to their class of rambunctious nine and ten year olds. It was in that cramped, noisy room that I met one of the most interesting people of my childhood.
That girl had a lot to say, and I was usually the one she said it to. Every week I sat silently with wide eyes to a torrent of elaborate stories, full of amazement. Being very gullible, it took me a while to realize she was a perpetual liar, and very little that she said was true.
I can't remember most of what she told me, but the story of her dead grandfather hasn't left me yet. One Sunday morning she came in and plopped down in the chair next to me as usual. Before I could say a word she started telling me all about how she's getting used to hearing her grandfather's ghost walking around her house. She explained to me that the reason his ghost sticks around is because they keep his body in their living room. I promptly about fell out of my chair shock after hearing this bit of information. I envisioned a living room with a casket stuck in a corner, or maybe used as a side table. I could hear guests being asked to use coasters so their glasses wouldn't mess up the caskets finish. (Do they even finish caskets?)
Like I said I was gullible. I finally got the opportunity to ask where exactly in the living room did they keep his body. The answer was on their mantle. In an urn. I had temporarily forgotten about cremation, and felt somewhat relieved in remembering. I have no clue if her family really did keep his ashes on their mantle, all I know is that it makes for a somewhat humorous memory.

Grieving

I actually wrote this in a notebook a while back, and wasn't sure if I wanted to post it. Obviously, I decided to.

I hits you when you least expect it. Before you can brace yourself a wave filled with past moments, happy and sad, crashes over you. Suddenly the void in your life becomes so pronounced that for a few moments it totally engulfs you. The only thought in your mind is, "I miss my grandma." But just as quickly you place the cover back on the void and move forward. You'll get used to it eventually. You have to, because Grandma is not coming back.

Lilly the Duck

Before working at a local museum I did not realize it was possible for a duck to possess a stinkeye that rivals my own. It was there that I met Lilly. This snow white fowl is the terror of many other volunteers, and strives to make our lives as difficult as possible.
The first time I took care of the animals by myself I determined that I was not going to let a duck scare me. I mean it's a duck! How vicious can she be? I pulled on my fake confidence and began cleaning her pen. As a talked sweetly to her I hoped that the noises she was making back were happy. Unfortunately, the somewhat threatening tone and the way she was glaring made me fairly certain that they weren't. She intensely watched my every move, eagerly awaiting the moment my hand came into biting range and she could lunge for attack.
I spent as much time as possible cleaning the litter in the pen, dreading the next step. Changing the water in her tub. The only way to clean and refill her 'pond' is to empty it with a bucket, and then replace the water with a hose. Of course Lilly has to be removed before any of that can happen. Knowing that she was not going to be happy with me picking her up, (and somewhat fearful of what damage she might inflict), I instead gave cheerful hints concerning her waddling out of her pen. They all went like this, "Now Miss Lilly, don't you want to walk around the room some? I have a ramp set up for you, and all you have to do if walk a few feet." Miss Lilly did not want to walk around the room; at least not without making a fuss before hand.
Seeing that the bird was not going to move, I took a deep breath and grabbed her. The extent of her quacking and struggling was more appropriate for if she were headed to the dinner table than for a daily ritual. With her removed and possessing a few less feathers, and me feeling rather proud I provided her with a clean water.
Fortunately I'm beginning to gain knowledge of Lilly's ways, and am getting better at dodging her nips. Maybe someday we'll even get along. But I wouldn't count on it.