Okay, so I have part two of “Violet” which is the end of the story. I’m really proud of myself because I haven’t shared a finished story in a long time. In fact there has only been one other story in the past three years. I used to write, finish and share stories all the time but I lost my faith in my talent.
Forgive me if I’m a bit rusty. I will endeavor to forgive myself as well. I love writing so much, it seems a shame to give it up-actually I can’t give it up. So I’ll embrace it instead. Now, off to the races.
Here is part 1 of “Violet” for those who missed it (if you read it, skip down to part 2):
In the summer of 1993 a letter came to Sarah Kane saying her Aunt Violet had passed away and left Sarah her home. Never having had much in the way of family, Sarah felt she was better off without the stress that inevitably came with such relationships. So though her Aunt Violet had invited her to visit many times throughout the years, Sarah had managed to find a way to decline every offer.
As Sarah opens the box of letters from her aunt, observing the handwriting becoming increasingly sloppy through the years, she sees a countdown to an end destined for us all. She wonders, will someone remember me when I’m gone?
Driven by guilt Sarah quickly plans her first visit to the home she should have visited so many times before. Doubt slithers into her mind as she wonders ‘What’s the point? It’s far too late to make amends isn’t it?’ Her eyes slide to the box of letters, faithfully written with failing limbs. Closing her eyes and gathering strength she says “No, it isn’t.”
Sarah packs her bags, books her trip and heads one down to a place that is the very image of wilderness. Arriving at a sagging shack, her guilt grows more intense. How did her aunt survive in this mess?
She’s almost too afraid to step inside, then reminds herself that this is where her poor aunt lived her life. She should be at least brave enough spend the night.
Stepping inside the crumbling home, Sarah tries not to touch anything. Her eyes scan the peeling wallpaper and uneven floorboards with disdain. A web touches her face and she has a mini panic attack at the mere idea that a spider might be attached to it.
Then, to Sarah’s surprise, she finds a door with her name on it. Opening it, the room inside is well kept, neat and clean. There is a cute dresser with a vase of flowers starting to die on top of it. A bed with clean linens and two nightstands on either side of it, curtains that look as if they’ve been recently washed and pressed, all of it speaks of welcoming a much loved guest.
Sarah gazes at the room in disbelief before rushing to see what her aunt’s bedroom looks like. She hopes it looks the same.
But she finds that, while its not in as poor shape as much of the house, it could use a lot of love. It’s as if her Aunt Violet put so much effort into keeping Sarah’s room looking nice that she didn’t have the strength to tend to her own.
Depositing her things in her own room, Sarah puts on something comfortable, ties her hair back and gets to work fixing her aunt’s room. She makes a list of supplies she’ll need, including new wallpaper.
She searches for a washer and dryer.
Unable to find either she realizes that her aunt must have hand washed everything. She discovers a large basin and washboard in a small room off the kitchen, along with spying a clothesline out back.
It seems this will be harder than she thought.
As Sarah washes sheets she imagines her aunt in her place, how tiring it must have been for her, how she took care of a room for someone who never came…
Tears slip from her eyes, catching her off guard. She wipes them off on her shoulder but they just keep coming.
“Why did you wait for me!” She yells at no one in particular, yet wishes to tear into herself.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t worth waiting for… I’m the family that’s more trouble than it’s worth. I thought it was you-but it was me. It was always me.”
Then it occurs to her, that her aunt did need her. Sarah could have helped take care of the house.
Taking a deep breath she decides to end the pity party and take a walk in her aunt’s shoes. She’ll fix up a house for someone who will never come, imagining that maybe, just maybe Aunt Violet will get to see it somehow.
That thought makes Sarah smile. “My turn.”