J. Alexander (johnmill79) wrote,
J. Alexander
johnmill79

Lj Idol: Still In The Room

The bed in which I sleep clearly comes from another era. The mattress, small and hard as a board, creaks ominously as I toss and turn about. I sometimes wonder if termites aren't having lunch on the flimsy wooden support underneath.

Behind my head, there are two shelves. On the top level sits an assortment of lotions, creams, and powders, along with a couple pill bottles thrown in for good measure. The contents of these containers have remained undisturbed for a very long time.

On the lower shelf, there is an alarm clock that, in its heyday, could have awakened the dead. It's a small thing with big, blocky buttons, but man was it loud! I could make great use of it, except I'm too afraid to open the battery compartment lest its contents leak onto my hands.

Just in front of my bed stands a slightly chipped bookshelf that is stuffed to the top with the Bible. And yes I do mean stuffed; because this edition is in Braille, it must be divided into several bulky volumes. I randomly pulled one of these out to have a look, but I had to blow the dust off the pages before I could perceive the dots.

The walking stick that he used for balance in his later years still hangs on the closet door. Straight as a rod and hooked at the top, it always reminds me of Christmas for some reason. I guess it's the candy cane reference.

My granddad. Totally blind from birth, he nevertheless persevered. It was unfortunate that he grew up during a period in which he was denied an adequate education and even training that would allow him to get a good job. To get himself and his family by, he would hop on a Greyhound bus every Sunday and sing at local churches. They would then reward him with just enough fundage to get through till next week.

When we first moved over to this apartment from the neighboring one, shortly after my grandfather left this world, we decided that it wouldn't be worth the time or effort to move all of his belongings out of here. Therefore, I pretty much superimposed my things onto those that remained.

As I lay there that first night surrounded by the minutia that represented his earthly possessions, I felt his presence descend upon me. Specifically, he came and spoke to me in a dream. "I know you're in my room now," he said while sitting on the edge of the bed: "but I don't want you to stay there forever. I didn't fight for every scrap so that you would have to live the drudgery that made up most of my existence. Everyday you plant your feet on the floor after getting out of this old bed, take two steps forward."

I remember being so profoundly shaken by this when I awoke. It felt so incredibly real.

I guess my greatest fear is that I have, to this point, been unable to break free from this place. Is it for lack of trying? I sure hope he doesn't think so.
Tags: lj idol, lji topics, writing
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