When four Sheriff’s vehicles drive up to this 69 year old grandmothers house and she realizes they have come for her and that she is being placed under arrest, with her grandson the only other person in the house to witness this, upon her release the only way that she can bear the many months of not seeing nor hearing from her only grandchild, was to write about the 81/2 years that she and he spent together and the many adventures that they shared.

The Overwhelming SADNESS OF THE SILENT Trampoline

By M. Annamae Hendrickson

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2011 M. Annamae Hendrickson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4670-4283-3

Contents

PROLOGUE.......................viiChapter 1......................1Chapter 2......................11Chapter 3......................19Chapter 4......................33Chapter 5......................39Chapter 6......................45Chapter 7......................55Chapter 8......................61Chapter 9......................69Chapter 10.....................77Chapter 11.....................87Chapter 12.....................93

Chapter One

I want first to talk about one of my very favorite memories. I had not met you yet, your mommie was still carrying you in her tummy. One day I was walking the jail trail by myself and was on the way back to my car. I was just past the underpass bridge when I looked up and there to meet me was your mommie with Jessie and Jamie on leases. She had a big smile on her face, she looked so beautiful and happy. I was happy to see her, we walked and talked and in a couple months you were born. I had given up even thinking that I would ever know what it must be like to be a grandmother—after all, I was 60 and then miracles of miracles, you arrive.

You were born on September 30th, 2002 and I fell in love with you the minute I held you in my arms—a grandma's love. I had the great privilege of being your caretaker for 3 to 4 nights a week starting when you were 6 weeks old. You slept in my big king bed with me, I had it against the wall and put folding chairs between the foot board and the mattress so you would not fall out as you crawled and rolled around on it. I changed your diapers and fed you your bottles and while doing so would rock and sing to you.

I would always sing to you. As you got older, I would still rock you to sleep, I would try to read to you but you did not want me to read to you. You would go get the big black book with red and gold writing on the cover, and you would say "I will read to you, grandma" There were no pictures in this book, the title is Health Secrets—it is not a children's book but you would pretend to read to me, from this book. Than you would close the book and say "sing me to sleep, grandma" I never did understand The Overwhelming Sadness of the Silent Trampoline why you would always choose that book. There were no pictures in it.

I would sing and rock you long after you fell asleep, just for the pleasure of holding precious you and looking into your beautiful, sleeping face. After a while, I would carry you down the long hall in the trailer.

As you grew and fell asleep in my lap, from my wonderful singing, of course, I had to move sideways down that hall, while carrying you to bed-otherwise your feet or head would have hit the hall walls.

Finally, you grew so big that I could not carry you anymore, so we would go to bed at bedtime and you would still say, "sing me to sleep, grandma". You would usually fall asleep soon after I started singing. I sang you to sleep every night that you were with me until you turned 7-and you did not ask any more, but now and then, you still would say those beautiful words "sing me to sleep, grandma".

Before all this bedtime—I walked you in your stroller around the trailer park that I lived in at the time. Every day, weather permitting, I would push you in your stroller. I'd say "Let's go for our walk" and little you would run to the bedroom and get my walking tenners.

We would walk around the trailer park and at times walk to the Motel parking lot . When you were about 10-11 months old; along the one wall in that parking lot was a big dog turd-I pointed it out to you the first time it was there and from then on you would want me to stop so you could stare at that poop. Oh how I wish I knew what your little mind was thinking. You did not talk much yet, but you sure were interested in staring at it. I think it was your first realization that dogs pooped also. I know you stared at that dog poop until it finally turned to dust-which took several months.

You knew exactly where it was and would not let me push you in any other direction. It was so close to that concrete divider wall that a car could not drive over it and other people, of course, would pay no attention to it-so it became ours, ours alone, to gaze in wonder at and so we did.

I do know we wore out two strollers walking around the trailer park and the Motel parking lot. I looked at the back of your little head, I loved looking at the back of that beautiful little head-living in Arizona, you did not have to wear a hat too often.

You didn't start to walk until you were 15 months old-I had read that more intelligent children walked at a later age, so I was happy you did not walk early and they were right, as you are very intelligent.

At the hospital, the first time I saw you, after you were born, still naked, just born—you had your right arm held straight up. One day when you were about 8-9 months old and I was walking you through that senior trailer park—an older gentlemen came up to us and was just looking at you. You had your right arm straight up (you did that a lot-I got so use to it, I did not think much about it) but this older gentlemen just looked at you a while and then asked me "does he do that with his arm a lot?" I answered, "when he just came out of his momma and I saw him-that arm was straight up" That older gentlemen said "Well then, he will be a leader of men" I have never forgotten that exchange. I think of it often—in my thoughts about you.

Anyhow, back to our "adventures"—after the 2nd stroller gave out—we moved on to what we called your "tractor" it was a three wheeler-one wheel in front and two in back, like a tricycle—it was all plastic, even the wheels were, but you could paddle it and it still had a handle that I could push. Such fun, you would paddle and I would push and again away we would go. You paddled all the way to Maverick a couple times—as we would cross the street to Maverick, I'd holler "paddle, paddle, hurry, hurry" and your little feet would just go—I loved watching you paddle with all your might and than we would get a corn dog and sit at the table at Maverick, eat our corn dogs, talk and then lazily do the routine across the street and slowly paddle back to the trailer park. The sidewalk to the trailer park was across the street from Maverick-that's why the run.

At the Motel Inn Parking lot, which was big, we would park your "tractor" at the bottom of the stairs and climb up to the 2nd story of the motel, there were two buildings, each two story, with a cement cross walk between them—up to the 2nd floor we would go and we would walk all around both buildings—when we stood on that cross walk—we could look down at the people swimming in the pool below.

After we got back to ground level (but first going around the 2nd level several times) you would always have to go to the pop machine to push the ice machine lever and pop ice into your little mouth and of course, you would stick some in mine as well. Than away we would go.

The parking lot had a slant to it from the motel to the restaurant and you would always give me a head start to run to the restaurant and you would peddle as fast as you could to try run over me, you almost got me a couple times. We would go in one door of the restaurant area, with the tractor, say hi to Brian at the front desk (motel check-in area) take a drink from the water fountain and go out the other door. We always stopped at the outside big fountain to just watch the water flow from tier to tier, we'd sit on the bench there and talk, remember when it froze and you reached for an icicle and a whole big chuck came plunging down? It really scared us both.

Sometimes we would cross over to Calvary Chapel that was before they put the big chain link fence around the play area-do you think they put that fence there because of us? We had not started to go to church there yet. You would always have to push the plastic kids table to another spot and than you would invite me into that little plastic house they have, I would crawl in and we would visit, you'd give me pretend coffee—than we would throw the balls that were always there, we played catch and kickball, you also liked to try and throw them onto the roof and watch them roll back down, usually I had to throw them for you so you could try catch them. It was great fun.

Finally, the one front wheel of the "tractor" wore clean down, big holes in the plastic. I got industrial duct tape, I stuffed that hole with newspaper and then I wrapped a whole roll of the tape around that tire. Yahoo, it was as good as new. After it wore out the 2nd time, you were old enough to just walk with me. I did pull you in your wagon a few times but that just was not the same for me or for you.

It is now 32 days, still the overwhelming sadness. Trampoline, empty, empty. Blinds down—Blinds up

Chapter Two

When you were about two—your hair was getting quite long in the back. Your mommie asked me to cut it as I always did cut your grandpa Richards, your Uncle Zane's, even your mommie's until she became a teenager. You hated getting your bangs cut. You were such a rascal-when I would say it is time for a haircut—you would say "tomorrow, grandma, please" I had such a hard time to get you to sit still, You were pretty good with the back but then the bangs, you would jump off the stool—I hated cutting it as much as you hated having it cut—but it cost so much to have the shops cut those few wisps of your hair.

I have always cut my own hair—and have had the same style since high-school. So, I made an appointment for you to get your little hairs cut at a shop and grandma to get a new hair style. We were excited.

I told you "grandma is going to look so different you won't know me, so keep an eye on me—so that you leave here with the right grandma" You got your hair cut first and you sat so nice and still for the gal, I could not believe it! Than it was my turn—it felt wonderful to have someone else wash and cut my hair but she cut just a few hairs—she told me I did a great job cutting my own hair (after 55 years I should) anyhow, when I was done and we were walking out—you said to me "grandma, don't look in the mirror, cause you still look just the same" I sure did, she styled my hair just as I had always wore it.

I continued to cut your hair and you continued to give me a hassle about it, each time. I wonder who is cutting your hair now.

Cars—you loved cars when you were little, even before you walked. Anybody who came to visit you wanted to play in their car.

You would crawl from the back to the front, turn all knobs, turn the mirror. You loved Linda's car—I think because she had a "sun roof". You would stick that little head of yours out the top and then duck back in. You could spend hours in a car if we would let you. I even wrote a children's book about you and cars—but I do not know what happened to it.

Another favorite memory of mine was the time you and your mommie surprised me with an overnight stay at Junipine Resort. This resort is in the woods, away from town, private and secluded, beautiful. I knew we were going somewhere but I did not know where, we took Henry and we had a beautiful cabin. Your mommie brought along so many good munchies and then she and you fixed the best ever dinner. The steak was truly the best I had eaten, in a long, long time. I loved our stay there—I wish we would have had the money to stay longer.

We both know your mommie is the best cook around—grandma does not even like to do it anymore, I think I cooked for so many years, on every evening after work and then every week-end on my days off—now, I want a time out. That is why you and I ate out so much.

Anyhow, just before bed that evening at the resort, I told you we needed to take Henry out for a pee break before we went to bed—we walked down past about 5-6 other cabins, it was getting dark and low and behold we see a skunk! Just right there, in front of someone's cabin, remember? I said, "oh, let's be so quiet and get back inside" we were happy Henry did not notice it or he would have started to bark and we would have been sprayed.

You would always tell me "you're not a very good cooker, grandma—but I still love you" What did you usually get when I did cook?—pancakes or cereal for breakfast and wieners (they were the best ones on the market though) and mac and cheese.

Ya, we knew who the best cook was and we liked it when mommie did the cooking. You and I liked trying different restaurants and we both loved buffet's—your mom did not like them so much. We ate out 2-3 times a week, sometimes just driving through a fast food joint. I would rather, drive around or go for walks than stay home and cook—I did not even like to bake anymore. Just tired of all that inside stuff, I always loved being outside. I still eat someplace—other than home—3-4 times a week, just like when you spent your nights here at grandma's.

Let's talk about riding in the car, this was when you were still in your car seat, not your booster seat, but the kids car seat. I love to just drive around, I always have, I am like your great-grandma Mia, my mom, in that regard.

Richard was going to Sioux Falls College during the week, getting his 2nd master's, Grandpa Hugo was in Minneapolis doing construction during the week—your mom, Zane and I spent those 4 summers at your great-grandma's—she would say, just about every day "let's go drive around" and we would hop in the car and go. But—all that is another story. Back to you and I, I would say to you "let's just go drive around" and we would hop in the car and go.

I am still doing that, every day, but now it is just Henry and I. Sometimes we go twice a day—because I am so lonesome for you, driving around helps me deal with all that is happening. It is so hard for me to stay in the house, memories of all of the things you helped me with and seeing all your clothes, toys etc., still here. Have to leave the house.

Every time you and I would get into the car—I would say "here we go loop de lou" and you would answer "here we go loop de lie" and then we both would say "all in a matter of time"—We were still doing this up to March 22nd. Now I say those words to Henry and I pretend that he says your part. I say to him—"your part, Henry" he looks at me and I hear him say "here we go loop de lie".

When we would drive around you would say "let's count flags, grandma-whoever counts the most by the time we get home (or wherever we were going) wins" we had to say "I spy" and the other person had to see it also or it would not count (otherwise we could just make up seeing one) I remember sometimes I would have to turn the car around, because either you or I missed the flag—that the other was talking about.

I was driving, so sometimes I missed the one you saw, sometimes you missed the one I saw. You would not give me my point, I would not give you your point, unless we both saw that flag, so I would turn the car around so we could qualify for the point.

You usually would win at this flag game. Your little eyes could spy a flag a mile away. Of course, only US stars and stripes could be counted.

44 days—Your mom always said I did not cry enough, well, she should see me now. It is a daily thing, sometimes several times a day.

Blinds down—Blinds up

Chapter Three

Let' go on with our "adventures" We would drive up to Clarkdale and you would love to stare at the "big rig"—this is again when you were little, in your kids seat. That is what you and I called it, it is a part of the Cement plant located in Clarkdale and is a tall, tall, steel structure with lights on it—so planes do not run into it, I imagine, but you would stare at that structure like you stared at the dog poop. Until it was out of sight.

Another thing you liked to stare at when you were just little was that house with the big, big antenna's-on the way home to your house. We had to take that extra little turn just so you could look at all those antenna's and they were so big. We thought perhaps, a ham operator lived there. Those antenna's have been gone for at least 3 years now, the house is still there—but we no longer took that extra turn—once the antenna's were gone.

We would stop at garage sales and estate sales, the estate sales were our favorites because we could walk around in the actual house, than you got old enough and did not like stopping at these sales anymore, but we did find some treasures over the years. I think your best was that smoke machine-where the smoke comes out of a skull head's mouth. It was a Halloween thing but I thought it was pretty neat.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Overwhelming SADNESS OF THE SILENT Trampolineby M. Annamae Hendrickson Copyright © 2011 by M. Annamae Hendrickson. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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