I felt a bit of trepidation as I ascended the accordion stairs to the attic again. Not only had the fall made me wary, but the trippy fever dream starring my late grandmother and her incredible 1950’s kitchen had me feeling like I might have a few screws loose. But I was determined to find answers. Answers that would quell this woozy feeling in my chest, and remind me that there is order in the Universe.
And so I got to work.
On the previous day, I had intended to work methodically by clearing boxes and sorting the contents little by little in a way that would clear space and make a nice little path through the attic so everything would be easily accessible.
But today I was a completely different person.
I tore into the boxes with abandon. I gave no thought to keeping any order. I barely even registered what I was seeing if it wasn’t my prize. I had torn through half of the attic when I heard my Mother calling to me from the hallway. Thankfully, she no longer had the ability to climb up the attic stairs, so she couldn’t see the enormous mess I was making.
“I’m making cold cuts. Do you want one?”
“Uh. Sure, Ma.” I called back to her. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“No rush, it’ll keep.” Her voice trailed away as she walked away from the attic.
After a few more minutes of rummaging, I finally surrendered to my hunger and desire to breathe fresh air.
As my parents and I sat around the old kitchen table that we’d shared a thousand meals at, my parents made the kind of small talk that causes adult children to squirm. They began to tell me about distant cousins that had died, new ailments they had discovered, and a cure for said ailment they had found on “The” YouTube. When they began to ask me questions about whether I was seeing anybody, I suddenly inhaled my sandwich and announced that I really had to get back to work.
My parents exchanged glances and seemed to realize that they had overstepped in their well-meaning conversation, so my mother said, “We can’t tell you how much it means to us that you’re helping us with this project. We don’t know what we’d do without you!”
My face contorted into a closed mouth smile that made my chin jut out awkwardly. I shrugged and replied, “What are daughters for?”
This seemed to please my parents and they both beamed with pride. I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, thinking about the state of the attic above us. I turned on my heels and headed back into the sauna. I was not leaving until I had answers.
