It’s been a little over two months since my grandmother’s
death; I miss her. I miss her smile . .
. combing and rolling her hair.
So here’s the memory of her that is stalking my mind today.
I was around twelve years old. One day while my cousin and I were washing the dishes, my
cousin complained about the water being too hot. I’m laughing at the memory as I type, but
back to the story. The water was hot, especially from the kitchen drain. So
hot, that it took about 10 seconds for the sting of it pouring over your hands
to sizzle down. Anyway, this is how
the conversation between my cousin and my grandma went.
Hot Water
EXT. AUGUSTA GEORGIA- STREET- MORNING
Bright sunny day,
several kids cheer as they pass and dribble a basketball.
INT. GRANDMA’S HOUSE – LIVING ROOM
Southern
gospel music plays.
1970’s
décor, navy blue carpets, two flower print couches, a furnace heater, antique
plates and family photos hang on the wall. Several generations of high school
diplomas sit on the mantel.
Water runs hard
in the kitchen faucet.
INT. KITCHEN
TWO YOUNG
GIRLS stand over a double sink. THE SHORTER GIRL washes the dishes, while THE
TALLER GIRL dries them. AN OLDER WOMAN
who appears to be their grandmother cuts potatoes at the kitchen table.
Shorter Girl
looks at Taller Girl with a frown on her face
SHORTER GIRL
This water is too hot. It’s
burning my
hands. It’s too hot!
TALLER GIRL
Don’t look at me; tell Grandma . . .
Shorter Girl
walks over the Older Woman.
SHORTER GIRL
Grandma the water is too hot!
It
hurts my fingers.
GRANDMA
Well, I hope you remember
that when a
boy asks you to have
sex with him. It’s hurts! It hurts,
just like that hot
water.
Taller Girl
laughs as Grandma leaves the kitchen and Shorter Girl walks back over to the
sink.
SHORTER GIRL
But I wasn’t even
talking about sex.
Life offers the best dialogue!
A bien tôt,
J.L
