Honey and Lavender | Over the River: TEoJK #-18

Primal Earth

• • •

Jay

Gretta opens her eyes to golden sunlight and a strong scent of honey and lavender. Her chair creaks as she scoots back and sits up straight – it seems the old gal slouched a bit in her sleep. She rolls up the loosely fitting sleeve of her sweater and checks her new digital watch with the big numbers on it – 9:19 a.m.

A small smile blooms on Gretta’s lips. “Oh good,” she crones, “Hank won’t be back for quite a few minutes.”

Feet on the floor and hands on the arms of the chair, Gretta leans forward and ushers in a meteor shower of creaks and cracks from the chair, the floor, the walls for some reason, even her body. She waddles across the room, each step a mountain climbed, and approaches the far wall. Hanging there on a nail hammered through the wallpaper into the frame of her home is a ceramic wallhang depicting a blue jay tending to its nest. Her kids gave her this as a gift – not for a birthday or a holiday, just as a random gift – just this morning. She brushes her finger against the blue jay’s head. Her smile stretches a little wider.

Gretta waddles back to the chair on the far edge of the room. Facing away from it, she finds the arms with her hands and slowly lowers herself back down. Hank won’t be back for quite a few minutes yet, and tacking another chunk of sleep onto her mid-morning nap could only do good for Gretta.

Blue Jay

Gretta opens her eyes to golden sunlight and the scent of honey and lavender. Her rocking chair creaks as she scoots back and sits up straight – it seems the old gal slouched a bit in her sleep. She rolls up the loosely fitting sleeve of her black sweater and checks her new digital watch with the big numbers on it her kids gave her just this morning – 9:55 a.m.

A small smile blooms on Gretta’s wrinkly face. “Oh good,” she crones, “Hank will be back in just a few minutes.”

Loafers on the floor and hands on the smooth, worn arms of the rocking chair, Gretta leans forward and ushers in a carpet bombing of creaks and cracks from the rocker, the floor, the walls for some reason, even her tired body. She waddles across the room, each step a mountain climbed, and approaches the far wall. Hanging there on a nail hammered through the faded baby blue wallpaper into the frame of her dusty bungalow is a ceramic wallhang depicting a mother jay tending to its young. Her two kids gave her this as a gift – not for her last birthday or Christmas, just as a random gift – just this morning when they came to visit. She brushes her pointer finger against the mother jay’s head. Her smile grows a little wider.

Gretta waddles back to the rocking chair Hank gave her on the far edge of the room’s old area rug. Facing away from it, she finds the arms with her hands and slowly lowers herself back down. Hank will be back in just a few minutes, but she can tack another chunk of sleep onto her mid-morning nap anyway. It could only do good for old Gretta. Hank will wake her up when he comes in anyway.

Mother Blue Jay

Gretta opens her eyes to golden sunlight and a hint of honey and lavender in the air. Her antique rocking chair creaks as she scoots back and sits up straight – it seems the old gal slouched a bit in her sleep. She rolls up the tattered, loosely fitting sleeve of her dirty black sweater and checks her new digital watch with the big numbers on it that her two kids gave her just this morning – 10:27 a.m.

A small smile creeps across Gretta’s wrinkly face, breaking cracks in her chapped lips. “Oh good,” she crones, “Hank won’t be back for quite a few minutes.”

Holey loafers on the floor and knotty arthritic hands on the smooth, worn arms of the rocking chair, Gretta leans forward and ushers in a cold rainstorm of creaks and cracks from the rocker, the floor, the walls for some reason, even her tired old achy body. She waddles across the room, each step a mountain climbed, and approaches the far wall. Hanging there on a nail hammered through the torn and faded baby blue wallpaper into the termite-infested frame of her dusty bungalow is a ceramic wallhang depicting a mother blue jay tending to its two babies. Her kids Sally and Dally gave her this as a gift – not for her ninetieth birthday or Christmas, just as a random gift – just this morning when they came for a visit. It’s a shame they had to leave before Hank got back, he would have loved to see them. She brushes the vaguely numb tip of her pointer finger against the white strip on the mother blue jay’s head. Her smile grows a little wider, as do the cracks in her lips.

Gretta drags her feet as she waddles back to the rocking chair Hank made for her on the far edge of the room’s patchy old area rug. Facing away from it, she finds the arms with her hands and slowly lowers herself back down. Hank won’t be back for quite a few minutes yet, and tacking another chunk of sleep onto her mid-morning nap could only do good for poor old Gretta. If Hank ever gets home, surely he’ll wake her up.


This has been the second story from Highdeas: The Lost Stories from the Seven Earths, a flash fiction anthology hidden in the back of the book Over the River: The Emancipation of Jonathan Knox. Here is everything you need to know about it:

Over the River
The Emancipation of Jonathan Knox

Over the River is the third book in a trilogy called The Fall of the Seven Earths. I’ve also released that trilogy as a single book called The Fall of the Seven Earths. Here’s everything you need to know about it:

The Fall of the Seven Earths

I’ve written a few other books, too. Click here to see the list.

If supporting The Hillside Commons is something you want to do, click here.

If you’re there, hypothetical reader, thank you for being there. From this day on, we move forever forward~

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