big city secrets: manitoulin, day 4

Monday, July 6, 2009

Its 9:40 and it’s as quiet at 8. I slept indoors last night, thus I woke up later, and more comfortable, and dry, physically and psychologically; maybe I only thought I was damp? The cutest kind of grandparents are sharing a breakfast together at the table in the kitchen. “Hey,” she says. “I don’t like this kind of orange juice.” She blows her nose; something I’d like to do, but have no reason to, because now, I type. One of the kids who is also sleeping here told me that she came in from the trailer at 1, saw me sit up, then fall back asleep; I don’t remember this whatsoever. I am a little embarrassed! It’s as though someone or something’s taken over. I was thinking about this the other day, with me and my wetness in the trailer. If I can just get to sleep, my subconscious, or “other” body can deal with it as I sleep, because I’ll be asleep, not damp, but just asleep and dreaming. I feel like I’m in Fight Club or the sort.

The grandpa walks to the grandma who is eating her breakfast, and begins slicing half a banana onto her plate. Neither of them say anything, nor look at each other, but it's as though this is some sort of comfortable routine. A routine that has been practiced several times with smiles drawn out each session. I know, with my heart, that she is grateful for his generosity, and their thanks are implied, and appreciated.

House guests slowly make their entry to the common living room from their sleeps, each being equally warmly welcomed. One woman’s distinctive, playful accent is still there when she entered, thus I am more drawn to her. She reminds me of my friend’s mother, her humour, and her personality in general. The phone rings: what? It’s a woman, and it’s Nancy. “Nancy?” the grandpa asks. “If it’s not Nancy, it’s her twin,” the uncle replies. I listen intently to the grandma’s phone, not only because it’s adorable, but it’s because it’s very unique. The daughter explained to me yesterday before Boggle that she had an accident, had to go in for a surgery - this is odd, because the grandma just said “surgery” to Nancy, but this sort of thing is repeatedly happening throughout my visit here - and the surgeons didn’t complete the surgery properly, thus she has a hard time balancing and walking, has no peripherals, and cannot speak properly. It’s sad, but it’s cute, and it’s made light of by her family. Not in the bad way though, it’s all some sort of some animated joke. No sarcasm, just a genuine horsing around. This ability to make a harsh reality into something comical is a notable ability.

The grandfather explains the dream he had last night. It was about his wife, the grandmother, dying. He explains loosely how he woke up with tears, and the aunt explains her dream she had about a death after (spoiler alert!) Dumbledore died in her Harry Potter, number whichever.

* * *

We lay in the yellow room, freshly jaundiced, while the noodles for dinner were being made, yes, made. Outdoors resembled the temperature when you forget to shut the freezer before school and come home, and everything's all frosty and quiet, so we dove in for a little.