I wrote this for an assignment for my writing class and thought you might enjoy reading it. This idea was sparked by something my friend Chris says to me sometimes. It is a true story, though I wrote it like it was fiction.
SATURDAY MORNING
At 6-15 on a cold Saturday morning in January, a little girl opened her eyes and stretched. The wind had been blowing all night, swirling a snowstorm into town, and the white drifts seemed to cover the whole world outside. It was toasty warm in her bungalow inside her cave of blankets. She listened to the silence around her, waiting for one special sound. Then she heard it, the sound of her grandpa lighting a cigarette in the kitchen. She smelled the coffee he was brewing and knew it was their special time. Dressed in feeted pajamas with Bugs Bunny on the front, she slipped quietly out of her grandma’s bedroom and padded into the kitchen. “Good morning, Ernie,” her grandpa said. “Good morning, Bert,” she giggled. This was their special joke since Sesame Street was the little girl’s favorite TV show.
The kitchen smelled like coffee and cigarette smoke, blending together so they seemed to fit. The little girl liked the smell of coffee and wondered why it didn’t taste as good as it smelled. Her grandpa assured her that she’d like it when she got older, and she was sure he was right.
She climbed up into a kitchen chair, one that swiveled and could go around in circles if you wanted. Her mom and grandma scolded her for doing that though. She wasn’t sure why. Grandpa didn’t mind though, so she spun in a few circles till she was a little dizzy. The owl-shaped cookie jar perched on the china hutch seemed to smile at her in his wise and gentle way, as if he would keep her secrets.
“What do you want for breakfast?” Grandpa asked, beginning their Saturday ritual. “We have cereal,” he said, opening the cabinet. “Corn flakes, wheat checks, shredded wheat… Or… I could make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on brown bread.” At this, the girl grinned widely, showing the gap where her two front teeth were missing. “A peanut butter sandwich!” she cried. “Do you want one sandwich or two?” Grandpa asked. “I’m hungry as a bear!” the little girl exclaimed. “I want 2 sandwiches please.”
At this, Grandpa got out the brown bread, peanut butter, and a big jar of grape jelly. He spread each slice of the bread with a thick coating of peanut butter and then topped two slices with a layer of the jelly. He put the sandwiches together and turned to the refrigerator to get a jug of milk. He poured the cold milk into a tall, plastic tumbler and set the sandwiches and milk on the thick, oak, square table.
As she ate, Grandpa drank coffee, and they talked about so many things. They talked about Big Bird from Sesame Street and how the little girl felt sorry for Puff The Magic Dragon because he seemed so sad. She said she’d marry him so he wouldn’t be lonely anymore. She worried about Frosty The Snowman melting, and Grandpa assured her that Frosty knew when to head to Alaska so he wouldn’t melt. Grandpa told her about how he met her grandma and how they liked to dance together. The little girl liked this story better than all the rest of Grandpa’s stories and asked him to tell her about it often.
“Grandpa, your sandwiches are the best in the whole world! How come your sandwiches taste better than mom’s?” the girl asked. “I put my finger in it,” whispered Grandpa as if it were the greatest secret in the world. They both began to laugh.
“What time is it, Grandpa?”
“You going to catch a train?” Grandpa asked with a chuckle. “It’s five minutes later than the last time you asked.”
They both knew why she asked the question. She was waiting for her favorite cartoon to start. Finally, Grandpa told her that it was almost 7, time for her show. Being careful not to wake up her grandma, she slipped into the living room and climbed into grandpa’s big recliner chair. This was his chair, but on Saturday mornings, it was all hers. It was an overstuffed blue chair with fabric that felt like soft velvet. She loved the feel of it under her fingers. She nestled into the soft plush of the chair and reached for the TV control. Turning to channel three, she heard the music announcing that SuperFriends was starting.
Her heart pounded as she watched the evil villains, and she loved to watch Superman save the day. To her, no one was more handsome than Superman, and his voice was so rich and strong. She told herself that she’d be a SuperFriend one day and be Superman’s helper. During the commercials for cereal, fast food, and toys, she made up stories about adventures she and Superman would have. She just knew that someday she would help to save the world.
The house was quiet except for the low murmur of the cartoon and the sound of Grandpa lighting his cigarettes and of him tapping his cigarette ash into the ashtray. It was bitterly cold outside, but it was warm and snug inside. All was right with the world from Grandpa’s chair. The little girl was sure that there was no place as wonderful as this… and she was right.
