{"id":419,"date":"2018-05-31T07:36:46","date_gmt":"2018-05-31T11:36:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/?page_id=419"},"modified":"2018-05-31T07:36:46","modified_gmt":"2018-05-31T11:36:46","slug":"a-somewhat-magical-repose","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/stories\/a-somewhat-magical-repose\/","title":{"rendered":"A Somewhat Magical Repose"},"content":{"rendered":"

The house was a flurry of activity, not always pleasant. Beside the complaints of how much everyone hated their jobs, the rising cost of living, inadequate health insurance, the mosquitoes, the heat, the cold, the incompetent government–all levels thereof–there was the noise and general chaos.<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen seventy-nine, lived with her son in his house–his noisy house. She\u2019d sold her house and moved in with him and his family. \u00a0He worried about her living alone even though all her life she\u2019d been more than capable of managing a house, family and career. But why worry with house maintenance, gutters, roof, termites, plumbing, the lawn, trees and worse of all–meeting HOA demands? \u00a0She should rest, read, enjoy leisure for a change, he\u2019d argued. So she sold out–no sold the house, she corrected. It was fine really, she told herself. After-all she was hard of hearing, so what did it matter about the noise? <\/span><\/p>\n

Helen wasn\u2019t an accomplished cook but her daughter-in-law was. So that had worked out to everyone\u2019s benefit. Helen stayed out of the kitchen. After cooking meals for 60 years, Helen was \u201cburned out\u201d, she liked to joke. So many of her dishes were on the scorched side, she laughed. She spent \u00a0time in the garden, lunched with her friends, visited to the museum and volunteered for fundraisers. She\u2019d sold some of her house furnishings, given away the rest and brought only a few pieces of art, her bedroom suite and some cherished treasures with her. She was adjusting to not seeing her familiar things, a sometimes difficult transition, she admitted to her friends. <\/span><\/p>\n

Every morning she took her coffee in the living room–a room absent of the ubiquitous, blaring TV sets in the house–and thus a room seldom used, except by Helen and the family dog, Maximilian–Max for short, . \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Several months into her new living arrangement, Helen placed an orchid plant on the piano in the living room. The orchid, a gift to herself, had finished blooming and was in need of a rest in a cool, quiet place. That\u2019s when it began–unbeknownst to Helen. Max was the first to notice, a day or two later. Off and on, whenever Helen and he were in the room, his small hound dog\u2019s ears would perk up and he\u2019d stare at the piano. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s got your interest?\u201d Helen would ask. <\/span><\/p>\n

She laid down the book she was reading and rubbed his neck, causing a flurry of dog fur to fall to the carpet. At times Max would sniff around the piano but after a while he\u2019d settle down. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDo you smell a mouse? Maybe a camel back cricket? They\u2019re back for the summer,\u201d Helen suggested. She mentioned the possibility to her daughter-in-law who listened without comment. \u201cOh well,\u201d Helen thought.<\/span><\/p>\n

Helen couldn\u2019t hear what Max heard. But then one day, weeks later the orchid, on the piano, shot out a stem and tiny blooms, overnight. It wasn\u2019t there one day and the next it was. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat have we here?\u201d Helen asked out loud to no one as she came into the room and saw the orchid. She placed her morning cup of coffee on a coaster atop the piano. It was then that she felt the vibrations. She stepped back. Max, standing beside her, perked up his ears.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMice is the piano?\u201d Helen thought. \u201cHow horrible.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n

She stepped closer and touched the top again. The vibrations stopped a few moments after she laid her hand on the piano. <\/span><\/p>\n

Max let out a small yelp. \u00a0Helen removed her hand. She stood still for a few minutes looking at the orchid, the piano, glancing at the dog. Max watched and finally sat down on the rug, wagging his tail. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s take a look, Max,\u201d Helen said as she gingerly lifted the cover to the keyboard. To her relief there were no mice scampering about. She pulled out the piano bench. \u00a0As she sat down the orchid swayed, slightly. Maxed stood up and gave a low growl . A few piano keys fell and rose. <\/span><\/p>\n

Helen froze in place as she watched the orchid sway in time with the piano. She touched her hearing aid and raised the volume.<\/span><\/p>\n

She felt more than heard her favorite song, \u201cOde to Joy\u201d. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s keep this to ourselves,\u201d she whispered to the dog. Max wagged his tail.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u00a9 Glenda Kotchish<\/span><\/p>\n

May 31, 2018 <\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The house was a flurry of activity, not always pleasant. Beside the complaints of how much everyone hated their jobs, the rising cost of living, inadequate health insurance, the mosquitoes, the heat, the cold, the incompetent government–all levels thereof–there was the noise and general chaos. Helen seventy-nine, lived with her son in his house–his noisy […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":421,"parent":33,"menu_order":1,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-419","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/419","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=419"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/419\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":420,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/419\/revisions\/420"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/33"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/421"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/glendakotchish.com\/dir\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=419"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}