Dear Diary; The coach arrived on time; Niece met me at the bus station. She looked ill; with worry I presumed. Few words were spoken on the journey home; a meal was ready; we ate all sitting quietly with absolutely no conversation. Surely if a row had erupted someone would be speaking!
Tentatively I inquired how everyone was, only to be met with stony stares around the table. Did they ask how I enjoyed my holiday with Anne? No! Not a squeak! At one stage I attempted joviality and started to regale them with the highlights. Not an eye blinked in interest. I gave up Dear Diary ... I seriously wonder why I bothered to come back!
This morning a hush still hovered around the house. I am not one to indulge in the sulks, which is what Niece, her man who did have the sense to get himself out of the way early ... wise man; Karen and Jake didn't appear for breakfast, but I could hear them talking loudly [arguing?] in their room As Niece and I sat at the table, which incidentally was grubby; most unlike Niece who normally is a stickler for hygiene, and amazed I watched tears trickle down her cheeks. She was upset!
Previous thoughts of 'Hollywooding' in the household flew out the window. Obviously circumstances had altered in my absence. There I was enjoying the seaside, catching up with an old friend, and all the time mayhem may have been happening at home. Poor Niece! Poor Karen and Jake. My calming influence is sorely needed to bring some sense of reasonableness to the whole affair. My sympathy, for the moment, rests with Niece. I hate to see folk distressed, especially when that distress is brought on by their own actions.
Within seconds I hugged Niece, whispering that all would come out in the wash, which for some strange reason sent her into another fit of tears. Comforting her as best I could I determined to find out exactly what had occurred in my absence.
"Hester?" I enquired, " what went so sadly wrong? When I departed you were all so happy to have met and had so much to catch up on. What happened dear?"
Sniffing with tears that were slowly abating, Niece filled me in the some of the details, though as the story unfolded I resolved to have a conversation with Karen and Jake. Two sides of this story may be different.
"Aunt Alice," Niece began. "I truly wasn't trying to take over the wedding arrangements. I didn't know I was a mother, and suddenly not only am I a mother, but also the prospective mother of the bride. It is so exciting! When I suggested to Karen she might like to wear my wedding dress, and veil, which you may recall are stored safely in the top of the wardrobe, and last time I looked, were in pristine condition. Karen was horrified Aunt! I couldn't believe how nasty she was. She snorted, and said she wanted a modern wedding, and not wear some old outdated rag."
At this stage the tears streamed again. I waited. There was nothing I could do.
Gradually she regained her composure, and looking sadly at me, asked what she should do.
Dear Diary, one must tread very carefully on what could be extremely dangerous ground. I made a pot of tea, put two more slices of toast in the toaster and sat her down. Food was what was required! Talking could wait.
Tentatively I inquired how everyone was, only to be met with stony stares around the table. Did they ask how I enjoyed my holiday with Anne? No! Not a squeak! At one stage I attempted joviality and started to regale them with the highlights. Not an eye blinked in interest. I gave up Dear Diary ... I seriously wonder why I bothered to come back!
This morning a hush still hovered around the house. I am not one to indulge in the sulks, which is what Niece, her man who did have the sense to get himself out of the way early ... wise man; Karen and Jake didn't appear for breakfast, but I could hear them talking loudly [arguing?] in their room As Niece and I sat at the table, which incidentally was grubby; most unlike Niece who normally is a stickler for hygiene, and amazed I watched tears trickle down her cheeks. She was upset!
Previous thoughts of 'Hollywooding' in the household flew out the window. Obviously circumstances had altered in my absence. There I was enjoying the seaside, catching up with an old friend, and all the time mayhem may have been happening at home. Poor Niece! Poor Karen and Jake. My calming influence is sorely needed to bring some sense of reasonableness to the whole affair. My sympathy, for the moment, rests with Niece. I hate to see folk distressed, especially when that distress is brought on by their own actions.
Within seconds I hugged Niece, whispering that all would come out in the wash, which for some strange reason sent her into another fit of tears. Comforting her as best I could I determined to find out exactly what had occurred in my absence.
"Hester?" I enquired, " what went so sadly wrong? When I departed you were all so happy to have met and had so much to catch up on. What happened dear?"
Sniffing with tears that were slowly abating, Niece filled me in the some of the details, though as the story unfolded I resolved to have a conversation with Karen and Jake. Two sides of this story may be different.
"Aunt Alice," Niece began. "I truly wasn't trying to take over the wedding arrangements. I didn't know I was a mother, and suddenly not only am I a mother, but also the prospective mother of the bride. It is so exciting! When I suggested to Karen she might like to wear my wedding dress, and veil, which you may recall are stored safely in the top of the wardrobe, and last time I looked, were in pristine condition. Karen was horrified Aunt! I couldn't believe how nasty she was. She snorted, and said she wanted a modern wedding, and not wear some old outdated rag."
At this stage the tears streamed again. I waited. There was nothing I could do.
Gradually she regained her composure, and looking sadly at me, asked what she should do.
Dear Diary, one must tread very carefully on what could be extremely dangerous ground. I made a pot of tea, put two more slices of toast in the toaster and sat her down. Food was what was required! Talking could wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment