Tuesday Tales - Simple

 

     Welcome to Tuesday Tales. We have more of Sasha's story about going to spend the summer with her grandparents. This is my first foray into YA or Midgrade or whatever you want to call it. It's also my first first person piece. It will either be a novella or a short story. Can't decide which yet. The story will tell me. 

Don't forget to read all the other wonderful pieces by the talented Tuesday Tales authors. Find them HERE. 

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I checked my watch. Five minutes until the dreaded arrival. We turned up a winding road, then again onto another road. Then I saw the sign. “Chester”. There was a white farmhouse with an old couple sitting on the front porch. Damn if it wasn’t “American Gothic”  by Grant Wood. Mrs. Appleton, my art teacher, would be pleased.

We pulled into the driveway and stopped. The old couple came down the path to the driveway.

“Sasha? Is that you? My goodness. You’re all grown up,” my grandmother said.

I got out of the car and my grandma gave me a quick hug.

“Come on in. I’ve got your favorite molasses cookies inside,” she said. “Dan, help with the bags.”

Molasses cookies rang a faint bell.

Charles unloaded my stuff from the car and my grandfather, now named “Dan”, dragged it into the house. I followed. The house wasn’t big, but it wasn’t small either and it smelled like molasses cookies. Dan dumped my stuff in a room upstairs. Way upstairs. It was the third floor and had probably been an attic at some point? Maybe?

It was decorated in faded pink and white. Boy, it had been a long time since I had been there. I’d left pink light years ago. But the view was amazing. I was right up there with the birds. Not that I knew crap about birds. Still, I liked it. Sure beat the view from our apartment, all bricks and cement.

I could see so far away, like a hundred miles. Or that’s how it felt, anyway.

“Nice,” I said, not know what to say and figuring that was expected.

“You’ll be up here with my crows,” Grandpa “Dan” said, grinning.

I had no clue what he was talking about. I liked that my room was somewhat separate from the rest of the house. My mother and Charles would spend the night downstairs in the “guest” room, all calico and homey. Not my cup of tea. Of course, the cold modern crap my mother furnished our apartment with wasn’t my style either.

I guess I didn’t have a style. I just wanted it simple: peace and privacy, and you could color it anyway you wanted – except in pink.   I flopped down on the bed. I had to admit it was comfortable. But the big, puffy down comforter – in summer? Really?

The only cold thing in New York City in the summer was too much air conditioning. Not here, though. Might be nice to be cold from something that wasn’t a blast from a freeze-you-out machine.

 

That's it for this week. Thanks for stopping by. If you have time a comment would be much appreciated.