Wanting to Live

The house I remembered most profoundly was extremely large, much too large for my small family. My mother, Camille Louisa Everly-Foxley, was in and out of the house with her busy schedule of social engagements and volunteering. She had a suite of rooms on the second floor and I would have to acquire an appointment through her secretary, Miss Claudia Jones, just to get a glimpse of her. She seldom stopped at Grams’ room, even though she passed it and mine, to get to the kitchen. On occasion I would hear her put the kettle on to fix herself a cup of tea and I would try very hard to catch her there, but she would slip in and out and I was once again a child without knowing the comfort of a mother.

That very immense house was given to my grandmother when her father died. There was a stipulation in his will saying that my mother could live in the house with her mother, Elizabeth Jane Jerome Everly (my Grams) and take care of her. That job, of couse, went to the housekeeper, Miss Emma, so that was a simple stipulation to keep. Mother always had a love/hate relationship with the house even when her grandfather was alive, but I guess it was more of a love for the house itself because we had always lived there.

My father, George Bernard Foxley, would come home occasionally from his job as a prestigious executive officer and buyer for a prominent mail order house. Maybe I would see him once every other weekend, maybe not. I don’t think father loved the house as much as my mother did. But it was evident that neither loved it enough to spend any time in it. Sometimes days would go by and I would see neither one of them. I was lift in my great, spacious house with an aging grandmother. Which one of us took care of the other still remained a great mystery. My Grams, as I called her and I fed off each other with our cutting remarks, mostly insults about clothing and food. Just stupid things that we could call conversation.

Being very young, I enjoyed the slamming remarks I could throw at Grams. I rejoiced in whipping out a verbal rap on her knuckles in a tone that was better suited for someone much older than my ten years. I delighted in watching her eyes to see if I could tell when enough was enough. Her eyes were a kick to watch anyway because one was green and the other brown and that always fascinated me. I never outgrew my curiosity to wonder how such a trick of nature could happen to a relative of mine. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my Grams and having a game in our lives was a necessary part of our existence. It was nothing more than a game though, simply our daily entertainment.

Days and months passed with very little changing the rapport between Grams and me. Mornings were filled with me fixing tea for her and making sure her slippers were on the right feet and then watching her nap. The afternoons were very much the same with the exception of our talking sessions and playing games. Grams taught me her version of Poker and Tic-Tac-Toe. When I didn’t catch on to Poker as quickly as she wanted me to she called me a dunderhead. But she would always make it sound more like a compliment than about something that would belittle me. Besides, I didn’t know what a dunderhead was and then for all I knew it was a wonderful thing!

One afternoon when Miss Emma brought me home from school there was a car in the circle drive, so I rushed straight to Grams’ room. As I approached her doorway I stopped short when I heard voices. I recognized Grams’ voice, but the other woman’s voice was one that I didn’t know. Miss Emma had already gone into her own room so I couldn’t ask her who it was. I listened intently and what I heard was very confusing.

My life in America had been solely lived inside a house that showed me very little of the outside world. I had such a despondent personality in school that I always kept to myself and declared that I would never need anyone in my life. As a result of that attitude, the only time I felt any life inside my soul was when I was in Grams room, even if she were asleep. If I were to sit and evaluate my life, I would have to say that Sarah was only beginning to evolve.