Ch. 272; Vol. 10

Our last Sunday at Grace.

Fourteen years, one week, three days later.

What can you do.

Purple and white flowers cascaded over the cold wood stove, mementos from Saturday.

Francis complained about the leftovers for lunch.

Carrie squashed Linnea on the couch, “You cute little baby.”

After digging up something to eat, Francis laid out on the couch, refusing to acknowledge that he might be sick. Puck sat on his legs with my laptop.

Rose snagged some of the remainders on the table – wristwatch with a diamond, aluminum canister set, a book about Armageddon, crystal necklace, juice glasses. I added the little pin with a seahorse [Aunt Tuuli says she remembers Grandma wearing it all the time], two juice glasses [blue tulips and blue roses]. We all gravitate to different things.

Francis was snoring.

Carrie was teasing the sisters about tears; didn’t I say that was sort of a Snicketts girl thing to do?

“I only cry when I put in my eye drops,” Carrie announced proudly.

Then Francis woke up suddenly, sitting up. Four sisters stared at him.

“What were you guys doing walking around the perimeter of the house?” he asked.

“What?”

“Weren’t you guys just walking around the perimeter of the house?”

“Uh… do you have a fever, Francis?”

“No. It was hot though.”

“You had a pillow on your head.”

“That was like the other day when Mom woke him up and asked him for the keys to the car and he said something about the life guard taking them to the sauna.”

Francis blinked. “So where are the keys?”

“Maybe you do have a fever.”

I felt his forehead. “Oh, gross, Francis. You’re all sweaty!”

While Francis grinned and left to wash his face, Carrie continued to squish Linnea, who threatened a punch.

“You almost got sliced in half,” Carrie warned.

“No, you almost got all your teeth out.”

Jokes about Carrie’s teeth…

“You all are so rude! I could be crying myself to sleep.”

“No, Carrie, because apparently you only cry when you put ear drops in,” Rose mocked.

“Whoa. Who taught you anatomy?”

“You were my biology teacher!”

Rose was leaving to join her second family – Thunderbird and Annamaria – for condo-hunting, the lake, dinner, and a movie. Bær and Puck had free tickets to the Symphony. Linnea was attending a church play somewhere about… zombies… Everyone else drove out to North County to Krispy Kreme [at Carrie’s suggestion] and Grandma Combs [at Dad’s].

While Mom and Francis walked inside for two dozen fresh ones, Dad and Carrie practiced interview tactics for the week. Francis walked out with a paper Krispy Kreme hat balanced on his too-big head.

Grandma shared catalogs, jewelry, and gummy monster eyeballs amongst us while Francis stretched himself out on the floor and probably fell asleep again dreaming about pick-up trucks in royal blue. A little 70’s medical drama on Netflix before we left.

Puck walked out of the house with one more big load of stuff that evening. Saturday, he just couldn’t restrain himself…

“These are adorable, Grandma,” he held up two green hand weights. “Can I claim them?”

While I imagined to process everything that had happened in a week over a Hormel platter, Bær bought a food scale and embarked on the unenviable world of extreme weight loss.