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 Deja Vu  (6 ratings)by Judy Simpson Page 2 of 3 "Eleanor, look at this beautiful double oven stove! And what a pretty shade of gold! It would be worth a fortune in the old country." "Yeah, but you know my cooking, mommy..." "Oh, my dearest little girl, with such a beautiful stove, you'll do better..." Her skills never improved a great deal, though she tried learning even from her mother-in-law who came to visit later. She was an excellent cook and only too happy to teach her, particularly when it came to dishes Francis liked, such as pigs feet in aspic. "Come, watch my dear!" "Never in a million years! It looks and smells awful! You do it!" And that beautiful lady just laughed, then made her write down an old dessert recipe she knew Eleanor would enjoy. She watched how the young woman tried to follow the instructions and made little remarks from as early on as how she broke the eggs, not in any malicious way, just enough to intimidate the would be pastry chef. They both laughed and finally the guest finished the production. Now, the pristinely clean peaches'n cream kitchen stood quietly, empty, almost begging for a knowledgeable, loving chef to take her under the wings. Eleanor was content to figure out how to make her new microwave oven heat a cup of water. Although it was still before noon, she decided to spike her coffee with some Irish Cream. She opened the double door bar, a special feature of the family room and indulged from the Emmett bottle. She never did much with the bar, other than clean the wall size mirror, glass shelves, polish the counter and faucet. Plenty, for her taste. Slowly she made her way through the hallway, so different from that of similar track homes. It was wide enough to allow one to wobble comfortably from one wall to the other, with enough space to fall across, without hitting his head in those walls... She was thinking for a moment in which of the rooms to settle and start writing. She preferred bright sunshine, so it had to be the master bedroom. The white washed simple furniture in this room scarcely resembled the one from earlier days, decorated with the warm, rich cherry wood French Provincial style. It now had the stamp of a clearly light, care free look, the new her. She perched herself atop the lavender violet flower motif comforter covering the bed and booted up her laptop. She sat there for a while, in the hair pin drop stillness, her fingers frozen on the keyboard. She felt frustrated. "Oh, you guys, stop that noise! I can't concentrate and I have an important test tomorrow!" Nobody listened to her as the laughter and noise from Davey's room oozed through the walls. She promptly raised herself and went to see what the merriment was all about. Francis and David, both on the floor, were participating in one of the most important battleship fights of World War II; bombs were exploding, some missing and followed by laughter; others took direct hits and the sound effect of total destruction was ominous. They didn't even see her, much less heard her plea. The silence deafened her now. Gone were the spacecraft wall paper and red speckled carpet, gone were the happy sounds. Yet, this was still the happiest room of the house. Furnished with cheerful children's furniture in primary colors, it was awaiting the arrival of David's very own children. Eleanor could hardly wait to see them take the room, the whole house apart. Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2001 Judy Simpson, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines. |
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