Old Enough

Missing my best friend forever is the worst feeling in the world. My Paw-Paw suggested instead of sending letters in the mail that I simply give them to Pearl when she comes around. Pearl! There's big news to share in regards to her, too.

I woke up and slinked all mopey like to the kitchen missing my best friend and Pearl wasn't there; now mind you, she has been in the kitchen making breakfast and cleaning every morning that I can remember since I was in diapers. I searched about our entire house before running to Paw-Paw who was of all things making his own bed. I could see he was not very good at bed-making so I helped him learn how to tuck the ends at the bottom in properly, just as Pearl had taught me. My tummy was growling.

"Paw-Paw, where's Pearl?" he glanced up briefly as he was very focused on changing a pillow case. He explained that she was only coming to do deep cleaning once a week now and that we had to manage on our own.

What? I felt my whole body go wobbly; we can't manage without Pearl, at least I can't. Paw-Paw can't even cook, or sew or stay awake long enough to remember what I am supposed to do!

"It's me and you kiddo!" he chuckled but I continued interrogating him non stop. What about my letters? How come no one asked me how I felt about this change? Doesn't she need money to help feed Clara and Smacky Lips and pay her light bill? Paw-Paw finally answered that Pearl was taking a job at the hospital cleaning that paid more than cleaning for us. My dear Jesus, nothing could be worse in my mind.

Paw-Paw pulled out a recipe card from a little box that Pearl had always used and put on his reading glasses which he always had slung around his neck on a black string. In his pale blue boxer shorts and white tee-shirt his round belly pressed into the counter top and he studied it very seriously. His silver hair was messy and he needed a hair cut something bad. He asked me for four eggs and some milk. I jumped into action as I wanted to eat before he fell asleep on the sofa.

He took a good sized yellow bowl and cracked in the eggs and whisked them into the milk then he asked me for butter, bread and cinnamon. I was too short to reach the cinnamon so I pulled a chair over to the cupboard and poked around. I handed him a spice jar and he warmed an iron skillet on the gas stove and started to melt the butter, dipping the bread in the eggs and milk and cinnamon. While I set the table he reminded me to get out the orange juice and soon we were in sync, breakfast was rolling along quite well. When we finally sat down to eat I immediately knew something was wrong. The french toast was too red. He said once we poured syrup on it it wouldn't matter. Despite dripping with way more syrup than Pearl would ever allow me, my first bite burnt my tongue and I immediately began coughing and felt my face on fire. Paw-Paw stood up pretty fast for his old self and went to look at the spice jar again; it was smoked chili pepper! Paw-Paw laughed and gave me a big glass of milk. I was not impressed much less laughing.

He then looked at alternatives. He took some bacon wrapped in white paper from the butcher's out, using Pearl's favorite well greased frying skillet he scooped a whole lot of lard into it. He threw in the whole package of bacon and fried it until crisp and dripping with grease. The side door was opened now and I watched the smoke flutter out with my appetite. After our consuming a mess of bacon, breakfast dishes and smelly skillets were scattered all over the place lending evidence that Paw-Paw's first performance as a chef was a complete disaster. He shrugged and smiled gingerly then tuning his eyes into a notebook by his placemat he read from it carefully, "Pearl has written in here what's next," he cleared his throat, "May, remember to brush your teeth, comb your hair and put your pyjamas in the dirty clothes basket in the laundry room then go play." I looked at him and the mess around us and knew, from my sleepover at Clara's that this was not going to go very well without Pearl. I gave Paw-Paw a hug and thanked him for the best breakfast ever. As always he said he was going to lay on the sofa and watch the morning news which was code for "I am going to fall back to sleep now." Sigh.

My first letter to Clara ~

Dear Clara,

First I want you to know that I think about you everyday and how much I miss you. Next I want you to know that life here in Yonderville is starting off real coo-coo without your Aunt Pearl. Paw-Paw made chili pepper french toast, left the kitchen a wreck and a half and never even had his coffee. We ate enough bacon for a month and I doubt we will survive for long. I sure hope those snoopy white ladies that decide if we are a fit family don't come around today cause he's asleep on the sofa already and I was told to "go play".

How's Smacky Lips and Jolly and Bertie? I wonder what will happen when Paw-Paw is old as your great-great cause I am sure we will be in trouble then. Paw-Paw is 80 come October, just around Halloween. Now that is spooky old!

I was sad to hear Pearl is coming only once a week but I guess it's much better for you and that makes me happy. Please send me a picture of you and a letter back.

Your blood sister and best friend forever, May.

P.S. If you have any cooking tips please send them soon. We have an emergency on our hands.