Once Upon a Time

It was 1996 and I had just turned 7. I was staying at my grandparents’ house in Florida. Eventually the time came for me to get out of the pool, into the shower and under the covers. Every night my grandmother would read me a story. These were not just any stories. She wrote her own tales of fancy and frenzy. I will never forget “Ermentrude.” This was a story about an elephant that fell into red paint and became a red colored elephant. The elephants name was Ermentrude. I loved that story along with whimsical stories about invisible friends, skyscraper long spaghetti, UFO’s and my favorite. It has been so many years, but I believe the story was called “The Glass Castle.” All of the characters were made of members of my family. I was a young princess who grew up in the castle. I remember my eyes although heavy with sleep would go wide as she read to me, and I clenched the blankets with excitement.

I was brought into so many different worlds, out of this world even. I am now 32 and my grandmother is no longer here on this earth. However, I have copies of all her stories. I still read them, and I read them to children that I babysit or to my nephews and nieces. Seeing their faces light up like mine once did is so rewarding and brings me back to my childhood. I can remember going to sleep and dreaming of that castle. I dreamt about what my princess dresses would look like.

Eventually the stories mixed together, and I was a princess with a red elephant. There is something about a bedtime story that is incredibly special and important. I still believe that imagination is everything. My grandma has such an imagination. There was never a story of hers that I did not want to hear. I remember asking questions as she read to me. I was so excited by the details of the make believe that she would have to stop my questions to continue reading. That never kept my mind from running ramped though. I started writing my own stories. They were not particularly good. My grandmother however read them as if I was the next Walt Whitman.

I continued to write throughout my life, and she was my biggest fan. My writing was obscure and different from hers. However, because of those bedtime stories a seed was planted in my head, and I let it flourish and grow. The bedtime story was always the best part of the evening. I could not wait to go to grandmas to see if she had written anymore stories. To my surprise and pleasure, she always did. Each night there was always a new dream to dream.

I hope to pass these stories along to anyone I can. I personally am not able to have children so I love to take care of others. I can go to hospitals and read these stories to children. It is an honor to read to them until they fall asleep; just like grandma did for me. Her writing was her legacy, and she told the best god damn bedtime stories. I like to think that I have even a little bit of her imagination. When I can’t sleep after a rough day, I listen to my grandmas’ voice in my head. I see red elephants, long spaghetti, crystal castles and so much more. It means so much to me that I still have these memories. I have a wild imagination and am extremely creative. I have my grandmother to thank for that. It all started with warm sheets and a “Once Upon a Time.”