Old Fashioned

"Shirley Temple on ice with ginger ale, please." Ally whispered loudly to the waitress as she looked around. She didn't want her sister to know she quit drinking, again. The facade of her look alike old fashioned bourbon was comforting. Quarantine day drinking had finally gotten to her. Without alcohol, she was a dry drunk. Twelve step emotional sobriety was too much work. If not for anger and resentments, she wouldn't have fuel to get through the day. After losing her job there was no one left to be mad at but herself. She had a strong urge for a drink and to be out of the house.

With the consequences of her behavior and the global pandemic, she was forced to face her mess. Her workaholic lifestyle had been safe. Her refuge in the corporate world enabled her to create an illusion she could no longer uphold. She didn't collect any belongings besides books, clothes and shoes. She was terrible at throwing things away, especially junk mail. Prone to accepting things given to her by others; she had inherited some items from her mother. Not much. She had reduced it to two or three small plastic boxes; one of her more organized collections. Still too hot to handle. She did okay cleaning up her mother's place in Pasco County, Florida. Ally's sister, Tori, did not bother to come down from Chicago when their mom passed five years ago. Tori was happy to be far away with her dog and her new life. She did not seem to mourn as Ally did. Tori was happy to be free and not worry about her mother's mental illness any longer. The concept of anticipatory grief was clear with her. Tori had been letting go of her mother for years before her death.

The last time that Ally and Tori were together they had a fight. People often rid themselves of the toxic people in their life. They were toxic to each other. With their mother gone and Tori ghosting, Ally was left to face the mess herself. She had started a decluttering program. It included shining her sink and watching the flylady.net. Ally had developed a way of parting with her things. If it was something meaningful, she would lay it out nicely and take a photo. She would post the photo on Instagram. Then once her memory preserved, she would then toss the item.

One box of her mother's things could not yet be released. Her mother had often talked about being a Shirley Temple dancer. To this Tori laughed and mocked the old woman behind her back. Other times she didn't say anything at all, which was worse. Ally had more compassion and thought up a possible story on her mom's behalf. Perhaps back in the 1930s and 40s when Shirley Temple was coming of age there was a dance competition. Her mother had often talked of dance and one of the things she left behind was a pair of tap shoes which happen to fit Ally perfectly.

The next morning after some coffee Ally went to the box. She found the Shirley Temple dance shoes. She moved the scarves around and she saw something in the back of the box she hadn't seen before. It was a small black notebook, an old moleskin journal. It was size that fits in your hand which you can take anywhere. She opened the pages and found her mother's dance record from all those years ago. Sure enough there was a record of her winning a dance competition. Ally flipped through the book and noticed at the back of the book was a small pocket, almost a secret pocket. When she opened the pocket she discovered an old fashioned savings and loan deposit book with a balance of $300. Ally was so excited about this treasure that she called Tori.

"I found a bank book in mama's stuff! I'm going to cash it in and send you half. Isn't it cool? I hope they let me keep it! If not, I'll take a picture and tag you on Instagram."

"That's nice Ally, but it's a distraction." Tori snapped. "Keep the money and leave me out of it. I want to be done with mom. Part of the reason I don't talk to you is because that is all you talk about. You want to remember and relive the past. You cherish all of that bullshit. It wasn't even special the first time around. I want to be free of it. I said goodbye to her already. I don't like clutter. I am fine. You can have your little treasure. Please leave me out of it."

"Tori that is hurtful. I am upset that you left me to deal with everything. You didn't even show any respect. If you did, you didn't share your grief with me. It would've been nice to have some special time together. Now you are pushing me away too. You don't even know. I bought her a beautiful stone for her grave. It is a rose color. Did you know that she was buried near you last spring?"

"Oh yeah, where?"

"She is in the Masonic and Odd-fellows cemetery in Benton Illinois."

"Seriously, Ally, did you make that up? What are the chances that someone who suffered a mental illness would be buried in a cemetery with the actual word Odd-fellows. What the heck is that?"

"Look it up," Ally matched her sister's tone. "it's a secret society of people who did a lot of good in this world."

Pause.

Silence.

"Alright Tori. I will let you be. I was hoping that we could be friends. You act like now that mom has passed you no longer need me in your life as your sister. That hurts.”

"Use the money to clean your dirty apartment. Quit wasting all your money on alcohol too!" Tori’s last words stinging worse than her own.

Ally tried to ignore the last remark. She needed to make a clean break as well. Tori shutting her out would give Ally a chance to break free from her old ways, her old alcoholic and workaholic ways. She went to the bank later that day. She discovered the account was now worth $22,465.53 with all the interest which had compounded and accumulated through the years. Ally gave the money a second glance. She wondered if she should share it with her sister after all. She realized her sister no longer wanted to be bothered, even to split a large sum of money.

In the months which followed, Ally began to pack up her apartment and put a deposit down on a new townhouse in Jacksonville. She called Junk Removal Joe to discard and donate all but the most treasured items from her old apartment. She hired a cleaning and organizing service from Clutter 911 to help her toss or box up the remaining items. She started to feel organized! She also went to a therapist with a practice called Healing Hearts. This gave her the prayerful outlet to remember and honor her mother. It also allowed her to release judgment of her sister Tori.

She was finally settled into her new place. Everything was in its place. Beautiful empty spaces in her house made her feel rejuvenated. She no longer had the urge to fill a void. She found a new part time job which did not consume her entire mind nor all of her time. Finding new ways to make ends meet was liberating. She found new hobbies as well. One day, instead of going to the bar, she signed up for a class at a local dance company. Tapping in her mother's shoes on Monday nights would be her way to keep mother's old fashioned dreams alive in her.