“You are a dancing machine.” I held on to my grandmother’s aged hand and moved my waist from side to side slowly with her.” She nearly broke a bone once trying to do the Twist. Chubby Checker was internationally known and a favorite at this event.
I accompanied Me-Me to the Senior Gala they held every year in Stockholm. This was our third time here.
Her smile pleased me more than anything in this world.
Sure, we ate the finest of foods and danced to the greatest of oldies. But the real treat came just before sunset.
The servers clad in black suits and white gloves carefully carried their sterling silver trays around to each elderly person in attendance offering them a small communion cup full of a glowing pink substance that would cause them to regain their youth but for only a couple of weeks. They were beyond happy to ingest it. My grandmother slurped up the last drop to the point of trying to inhale it.
I would leave after they crowned a King and Queen of wisdom as would the others that didn’t qualify for the service. Me-Me would stay there running, jumping, dancing, playing, all the things she embraced as a young person. I let my thoughts take me away from the veranda, picturing her as a girl.
In horror, I was brought back to my surroundings by the agonizing screams of the attendees. They were dodging something that I could not see, moving as fast as their bodies would allow, some falling to the ground, lying there, appearing to play dead.
I grabbed one of the waiters by his neck and flung him up against the brick wall. I held him there lifted a bit from the ground. “What was in that? What was in that? This was not supposed to happen!” I screamed.
He shook his head “No” unable to understand my English.
“Trevor.” Me-Me used her cane to hobble closer to me. “Trevor.” She cried, tugging at my shirt tail to get my attention. If anyone had the strength to stay focused, it was my Me-Me.
“It’s the tree. He’s trying to grab us all with his arms.”
Leesa Writes 