After her husband died, she started making dream catchers. Soon, they were all over the house -- hanging from the banisters, tied to tree limbs, even stowed away with the cutlery. All sorts of colors, too, with beads, feathers, and ribbons hanging from them. Her house was a wonderland.
Jean said she made them whenever she couldn't sleep. Seems to me that must have been every night. Since I had been her neighbor all those years, I guess it fell to me to be the one to look after her. Take her with me to get groceries, drop her off at the salon to get her hair done, that sort of thing. 'ts what neighbors are for, after all.
His name was Hank, and he had loved to garden and go fishing. They used to get up early every Saturday to go fishing down at Utah Lake, but then he got sick and, well. She never did the fishing herself, anyway.
'Bout near cried the first time I had her over for dinner and offered her some trout her husband had caught and frozen for me. It was meant to be a comfort, obviously, but that didn't work out quite like I had hoped.
It's been seven months now, and those dream catchers are still showing up everywhere. Take today, for instance.
I was pulling some weeds out from behind my roses (Lord, help me) and saw her step out of her front door, dream catcher in hand, and start spinning slow circles in the middle of her yard, looking for a spot. I leaned back on my haunches, lifted a hand to shield my eyes from the sun, and waited to see where she would put it.
This dream catcher was woven so as to look like it was a framed doily. There were no beads or feathers this time, but she had hung a mass of ribbons from it. Made me wonder if she was cleaning out her whole drawer.
When she caught me staring, she waved her free hand and called out, "Morning, Lia! Your front swing is looking nice, did you repaint it?"
I glanced over at the swing. It was 30 years old and hadn't seen a fresh coat in 35. "You need to get your eyes checked, Jean!" I said, shaking my head at her. "That bench is the same as it's always been, except maybe for a fresh coat of dust!"
She smiled wide, walked over to her trellis, and somehow found a way to snug it in there along with the overgrown hollyhock plant. "I thought it looked a shade more gray!" she said, then waved again before going into her house.
"A shade more gray, my butt," I'd said to myself, but I was smiling. It was a good day. The sun was shining, the neighborhood was coming alive, and I was wearing the new sun bonnet I had bought just the Wednesday before.
I made pancakes for breakfast and thought I'd bring some over for Jean. Who knows whether that woman ever feeds herself enough. She was organizing photos when I knocked on the screen door and let myself in. They were spread all across the dining room table, some in shoe boxes, some in piles and some sitting next to frames.
"Which do you think would go better over the stairs?" she asked, holding up two photos for me to see. One was of her and Hank next to the New York City Christmas tree, and the other showed them next to the house, probably just after they bought it.
"I think pancakes," I said, putting a couple photo piles onto a chair so I would have room to set the plate down.
“Oh, I already had breakfast. Thank you, though,” she said, moving around the table to consider another photo.
“What did you eat?”
“Corn flakes.”
“No, that’s what you ate yesterday.”
“A person can eat the same cereal two days in a row, you know. It’s actually quite normal.”
I looked over at her sink and saw no dishes in it. She does this sometimes, forgets that she forgot to eat. She could make millions if she could just bottle that style forgetfulness. Annoying as I’ll get out.
“Jean, I made these pancakes especially for you, and if you don’t eat them, I’m throwing them on your driveway.”
“Can they wait until lunch?” she said, holding a photo at arm’s length and cocking her head to one side. After a moment, she turned it around for my approval. It was a photo of an elephant. I shook my head and she tossed it back on the table.
We negotiated for brunch, settled on a photo of the two of them in a fishing boat, and I stayed to help her organize pictures for a minute before returning to my house to do a couple more chores before my book club (we were reading “1984.” It was horrible).
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