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I feel like I should tell you all a story about Nana, she was and is still my favorite person. She's full of humor, smart, but most especially she is kind, and has always protected me from the "monsters". I loved hearing her stories, and the ones about monsters were especially fun to hear. According to her a monster had to be let into a house, they can't just enter when they want. I was never worried about the monsters though, Nana knew exactly how to handle them. Allow me to quote her now:
"A monster will first knock, you should always ignore the knocking, and pretend to not hear it. If the monster senses you heard it, it will talk to you. It is very crucial that you do not reply to it, because monsters sense what you feel, not what you say. The tricky monsters don't need your permission by word to enter, they enter by the permission of your heart." I always wondered how Nana knew all of these wonderful stories, but she'd always hush me, and say that it was from a part of her past. To be honest, the stories were a little scary, but I knew Nana cared about me (the cookies she made were to die for, too). One of my favorite stories was about window monsters:
"One must be especially careful with the window monsters, they are the ones that are really creepy. Just looking at them is enough to give you the chills, though they are the mostly harmless kind. Window monsters will sometimes chat with you in your dreams, because of this you must always remember that if you find yourself chatting with one, you must ask who they are. Monsters don't like this question, and in the case of window monsters, they will almost always leave you alone."
Just remembering her telling me about them really makes me nostalgic. I could have sworn that when I was younger, that I really did meet a few in my dreams. I remember one of them that was really brave though, and it tried to trick me into being friends. It thought that if it claimed to be a friend of Nana, that I'd just be nice to him. Those were some of the most fun dreams I can remember, all the adrenaline rush from meeting one of Nana's supposed "monsters". Even if I don't believe in them anymore, I can't deny that they seemed so real to me at the time. It just goes to show how close a bond I had with Nana though, that I had so much faith in her stories. She'd babysit me whenever my mother was really busy and had to stay late at work, which was pretty often considering Nana even got her own key. But, I couldn’t help but wonder when or where my mother had met her. She was nice and all, baked me cookies, told me good stories, albeit there were trust issues; Nana never asked for my name, I doubt she even knows it.
Well, all good things do come to an end. I was told we were leaving with only a few weeks notice. Nana made a special visit, even though mom wasn't staying very late that night, and she didn't need to babysit me. Her words were so caring and loving, that I think I'll quote them for you:
"It's sad to see you leave dear, but Nana won't forget you. I'm sure we'll meet again, if you're a good boy and don't forget Nana's stories. I'll come and visit whenever possible, and I hope you make lots of new friends where you're moving to." I got baptized the week I was leaving, my mom was really insistent that I do so, since we were moving to a "more Christian" town. Not that it took long anyway for me to realize how fake the whole Christianity thing is anyway. I guess she thought I was bothered by Nana's stories, even though she made them fun to listen to. It was a real shame to have to leave, though I'm glad to have finally moved back to my hometown, since I'm out of school and I wanted to be close to my Nana again, and see her if she was still alive. Despite all her warnings, the "window monsters" never did chat with me after we moved, and none of her stories were thankfully needed. I do still miss those stories though. I guess I should call my mom now, and see where Nana lives here in town. I called her, and she picks up the phone, asking how my move went. I tell her that it's a little slower than I wanted, but that I'm really enjoying the nostalgia of reliving my childhood memories. For some reason she gasps at this, and tells me that she thought I hated my childhood, and she says that I was always swallowing clumps of dirt, and almost choking on it. I tell her that thankfully I don't remember anything like that, and all I had now was happy memories. She seems a little re-assured by it, and wishes me luck with the new job I got here as a writer. I ask her how Nana's doing, and if she knew where she lived, but I think she hung up before she heard me. Before I can call back, I hear a knocking at the door, and ask who it is. To my delight, the response is "It's your Nana, Dear,” and she enters asking how my move was doing. She brought her cookies this time, and we sit down and have a long talk about my childhood, and we tell each other stories, just like old times.
As my mother hangs up the phone, she heard me mention the name "Nana". She never recalls there being a Nana, or really anyone in general around me when I was growing up. I guess this explains why she seemed a little worried, and decided to call me back. I was just beginning to eat some of Nana's cookies when I hear the phone ringing. It seems kinda faint, almost distant, I really need to get a better phone. After picking it up, my mom seems really frantic, and asks why I'm screaming in pain. I told her that I'm using a perfectly normal voice, and that everything will be alright. I hang up and make a mental note that I should probably call a psychologist to talk with her. She doesn't usually act like this, I think as I take another bite of Nana's cookies. |