Over The Rainbow

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. Tomorrow is a new day, filled of hope and wonder, just for you! This is what I was told when I was a little girl. My head was filled with images of purple and pink skies in a magical world, where dreams come true. When I turend 20, I found myself still waiting for those things, those magical things, realizing they would never come. Until one day they did.

My Grandmother had always been so mysterious to me. Like she had a big secret she couldn't wait to tell, but never did. I always wanted to be like her. She grew up on a farm in Kansas, which is where I also grew up. She raised me, taught me how to milk cows and churn butter, and even chop wood. By the time I was 14, I felt like I could do anything. I loved her. I loved that she taugh me everything. She was my whole world, and I couldn't imagine what life would be like without her. But life changed quicky when she passed. No one tells you about those things when you're young. The truly terrible things in life that everyone has to experience at some point. I guess it's because there just aren't words to express how deeply sad it all is. Or maybe it's because it just hurts too much to talk about. When she was gone, the house seemed quiet. Too quiet. Empty chairs seemed emptier, and then suddenly I could hear every creek and clatter. The wind even howled with more force at night. Sometimes I would just pretend it was Gran making a ruckus. I wasn't really myself for a while. A long while. But I still felt her around, which saved me from drowing in my loneliness.

Estate people arrived at the house a few days after her death. I wasn't sure what to do, or what to expect. I hadn't had anyone close to me die before, apart from my parents, but I was only a baby when that happened. They explained that I would be inheriting the house and all of Grans possessions, as well as a small sum of money from her savings. I felt more alone than ever in that moment. I could hear the words being spoken to me but they were almost muffled, and for some reason I couldn't stop thinking about Grans cat, Emma. A white cat, who usually slept in the barn with the cows. Her duty was to hunt the mice but she never did. She couldn't be bothered to even try.

After a while, the estate people left but before they did, they gave me one final thing, along with a mountain of paperwork to sign. They handed me a box. A large, wooden box with the initals "D.G" beautifully carved on the top - Grans initals. I couldn't wait to see what what inside, but I also felt afraid of what I would find, and how it would make me feel. I was afraid to miss her even more, I guess. So I left the box on the kitchen table for 2 weeks. After a while I felt it staring at me, like it had eyes that were watching my every move. Even when I wasn't in the room, I left it - the big myserious box, looming in the kitchen.

Finally, I couldn't wait any longer. The antisipation was killing me. I had to know! It was dusty and it smelled old, like it had been stored on a shelf for a long time. Slowly I lifted the lid and instantly became blinded. The morning light shone inside the box, and filled the room with red. Red on the walls, red on the curtains, red in my tea and on my eggs. I slowly pulled them out. Bright, sparkling, red red red slippers with a note tucked into one of them.

I was shocked, to say the least, and confused to find these slippers soley in in the box. Gran was not a fancy gal. She mostly wore galoshes or saddle shoes. Where did she get them? By the looks of them, they appeared to be brand new but the box was old and full of dust. It just didn't make sense. Did she buy them for me?

Later that night, in bed, with the box on my right side, and to my surprise, Emma on my left, I pulled out the note which read "Put them on, think of me, click your heels together, 1 2 3". What an odd joke. Maybe she was unwell by the end and I just hadn't noticed. For months I wanted to put them on but couldn't bring myself to do so. They were so beautiful, I didn't want to ruin them.

The slippers sat atop a shelf for the next 60 years. 80 years old, dying in my bed, surrounded by family. Cows gone, Emma gone, even my husband, long gone. But Gran was still here, in these walls, waiting to see me again. I waited my whole life for something magical to happen, and I was out of time. Or so I thought. One night, the slippers spoke to me in the moon light. Red splattered on the walls once again, and I knew it was time. With the very little strength I had, I pulled myself up and eventually found myself dusting them off. The note, yollowed with age but the words were still visable. One by one I squeezed them on.

Gran, heels, 1 2 3.

I was gone.

Somewhere, over the rainbow.