Edgar was / Remembering Edgar

Slight Revision (1)

Though my joints are stiff and plagued with aches 'n pains I still catch that spring cleaning fever. This morning I had a nice chat with myself over coffee, strong and black just like Edgar's, and convinced the procrastinator in me that the attic was long over due for a good purge and scrub. Climbing the sagging staircase I chuckled as memories of youth flooded in. Leaning against the banister half way up I caught my breath, I praised the Lord Edgar had been spared these senile moments. My quiet laughter soon ceased, replaced by a low wheezing as I stepped onto the hardwood floor of the dimly lit attic. With the help of the colored sunlight streaming through a one by one stained glass panel, a handmade gift from my middle daughter that I had proudly pointed out to everyone and anyone a few dozen times each, I found the light switch. After flipping it the room remained dark for a moment until, with a few cracks and pops, the exposed bulb flickered to life throwing shadows onto the wallpapered walls, the pattern matched my mothers favorite summer dress, pastel green with delicately embroidered roses. I remember borrowing that exact dress for my first date with Edgar.

"What treasures must you have?" I whispered to the carefully packed cardboard boxes and various traveling trunks, the handiwork of my youngest daughter Laura. Her organizational skills definitely did not come from me, that was Edgar shining through. Over the next few hours I opened and repacked box after box, sometimes sharing a story and a laugh with the shadows, other times wiping away stray tears. My pack rat ways had always driven Edgar crazy, but today I found myself somewhat detached from the things. I'm old enough now to realize that the remembrance of good and bad times stay in your heart long after the physical manifestations cease to exist.

Eleven-thirty, I had time to sift through one of the well used travel trunks before heading down to Jasmine's Cafe for our weekly mad hatters meeting. Summoning all my elderly strength I managed to open its overly resistant lid, just like my only son Ed, our oldest. Always reluctant to open up and let his overbearing mother steel a peak inside his hectic artist life. Carefully putting aside a thin layer of old newsprint a small gasp escaped my lips. Edgar's old boy scout uniform lay there, upon further investigation I found the greater treasure to be wrapped tightly inside the slightly stained shirt, a picture of Edgar that had completely slipped my mind. His boyish face hidden behind his manly mustache. Dark eyes and dark hair, that was the first thing I had noticed. Coming from a a light eyed light haired country family he was almost too exotic. Both my sister Ruth and I vied for his attention, but when she moved to the city as a secretary, I had him all to myself.
"Those long summer nights definitely worked their magic" I informed the shadows while I fiddled with my wedding ring, I remembered when my long slender fingers had suited the simple gold band, my mother was always telling everyone how posh it was. Posh, I sighed, we had never even heard of words like that until Edgar had come to town, he was the nephew of a local retired lawyer. And his accent and strange mannerisms captivated the entire town.

I carefully packed away the boy scout suit, returning the photo to its makeshift packaging. That was enough memories for one day,
I reminded myself that life was for living as I headed back down stairs to get ready for lunch.

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Original

Though my joints are stiff and plagued with aches 'n pains I still catch that spring cleaning fever. This morning I had a nice chat with myself over morning coffee, strong and black just like Edgar's, and convinced the procrastinator in me that the attic was long over due for a good purge and scrub. Climbing the sagging staircase I chuckled as memories of youth flooded in, leaning against the banister half way up I caught my breath, I praised the Lord Edgar had been spared these senile moments. My quiet laughter soon ceased, replaced by a low wheezing as I stepped onto the original plantation hardwood floor of the dimly lit attic. With the help of the colored sunlight streaming through a one by one stained glass panel, a gift from my middle daughter that I had proudly pointed out to everyone and anyone a few dozen times each, I found the light switch. After flipping it the room remained dark for a moment until, with a few cracks and pops, the exposed bulb flickered to life throwing shadows onto wallpapered walls, the pattern on the walls matched my mothers favorite summer dress, pastel green with delicately embroidered roses. I remember borrowing that exact dress for my first date with Edgar. "What treasures must you have?" I whispered to the carefully packed cardboard boxes and various traveling trunks, the handiwork of my youngest daughter Laura, her organizational skills definitely did not come from me, that was Edgar shining through. Over the next few hours I opened and repacked box after box, sometimes sharing a story and a laugh with the shadows, other times wiping away stray tears. My pack rat ways had always driven Edgar crazy, but today I found myself somewhat detached from the things, I'm old enough now to realize that the remembrance of good and bad times stay in your heart long after the physical manifestations cease to exist. Eleven-thirty, I had time to sift through one of the well used travel trunks before heading down to Jasmine's Cafe for our weekly mad hatters meeting. Summoning all my elderly strength I managed to open its overly resistant lid, just like my only son Ed, our oldest, always reluctant to open up and let his overbearing mother steel a peak inside his hectic artist's life. Carefully putting aside a thin layer of old newsprint a small gasp escaped my lips. Edgar's old boy scout uniform lay there, upon further investigation I found the greater treasure to be wrapped tightly inside the slightly stained shirt, a picture of Edgar that had completely slipped my mind. His boyish face hidden behind his manly mustache. Dark eyes and dark hair, that was the first thing I had noticed, coming from a a light eyed light haired country family he was almost too exotic, both my sister Ruth and I vied for his attention, but when she went off to college I had him all to myself. "Those long summer nights definitely worked their magic" I informed the shadows while I fiddled with my wedding ring, I remembered when my long slender fingers had suited the simple gold band, my mother was always telling everyone about my posh wedding band. Posh, I sighed, we had never even heard of words like that until Edgar had come to help his uncle, our local lawyer. His accent and strange mannerisms captivated the entire town.
I carefully packed away the boy scout suit, returning the photo to its makeshift packaging. That was enough memories for one day, I reminded myself that life was for living as I headed back down stairs to get ready for lunch.