Hindsight

“They” say hindsight is 20-20. But “they“ aren’t always right. Once my Grams asked who “they” were and why I cared what “they” said. I was 9, and “they” said my dress was ugly. She comforted me by stroking my confidence.

“There aren’t many 10 year old girls that can draw a dress and have it hanging in the closet the next day.”

“I’m 9,” I whined, shrugging my shoulders and exaggerating my slump.

“It must be hard for those girls not to be green with envy” she winked.

“They are green, like gremlins!” My face lit up as she laughed way harder than I was funny, and giving me the boost I needed.

“People say and do mean things when they are jealous, but that doesn’t mean you change for them.” She cupped my chin searching my face for understanding.

“Ok Gams I got it.”

My Gams/Grams was perfect in every way. She knew how to soothe my soul and calm my spirit. Behind her mahogany brown eyes, was a quiet intuition. She knew what people needed.

“And doesn’t my Gem have a party tomorrow anyway?”

I instantly perked up. My birthday party was the next day, and Sarah, my best friend would be at my house any minute. I grabbed my stuff and bounced up the stairs towards my room. I was so full of joy and excitement I could have exploded.

As the guest began to arrive the next day, I was overcome with energy, anxiety and fear. Nervous, I quietly wondered who would show up. Eventually, everyone I invited was there, including my crush Mason James.

We swam in the pool all day, only getting out to take bathroom breaks or grab snacks. Grams was the DJ and even though she was like 100, she was known for her amazing parties. My mom and aunts watched after us, while my Dad and uncle cooked on the grill.

In perfect timing, The food finished just as the daily Florida thundershower moved in. We ate our food and everyone sang happy birthday, before overindulging in cake. Stuffed and stiff, I reluctantly sat in front of everyone to open my gifts.

I am not the “Give me presents type.” I was sweating and nervous as everyone watched me display each gift. I was unsure if they were jealous or if their smiles were genuine. I don’t recall any gifts except for the small black notebook my Grams gave me. When I opened it, everyone laughed like it was a joke. I thanked her and quickly moved on. Before long there were no more gifts, the party was winding down and I was relieved to be done.

My 3 closest friends stayed the night and I sent them to my room while Grams and I worked on the tea she was making for us.

She asked what I thought about her gift, and I didn’t know how to answer. She didn’t have to give me anything, I just didn’t get the purpose. I told her it was nice, and that I needed something to write about Mason in. She laughed and began talking as she poured each cup carefully.

“What happens in life is determined by you. Just like this cup, whatever you pour your energy into, that is what fills your heart. If you entertain negative, you will only see the negative. If you strive to be and think positive, you will see the good even in bad times. The book is for your hopes, dreams and goals, everyone of them. They don’t have to be long, but just watch as you achieve them and look back and reflect on the work you put in. It’s nothing big, but it is special. That’s how I got to be who I am today, staying positive and keeping a book of goals turned into accomplishments.”

I smiled at my Grams profound understanding and told her it was the best gift I received, and I wasn’t lying. Grams continued working on tea while I went to find my friends. Half way up the stairs I heard my friends talking...

“Can you believe all her Grandma got her was a dusty old book?”

“It wasn’t even a book it didn’t have any words” they busted out into laughter.

My face turned hot with anger and steaming tears raced down my cheeks as I stood there enraged. I remembered Grams words about thinking positive and I was immediately thankful that I got to over hear this conversation. Now I knew where they stood and I could keep an eye on them. I wiped my tears and composed myself before opening the door.

“Hey girls, Gams will be up with the tea in a sec, what are y’all doing?” I acted like nothing was wrong.

Sarah swooned “Talking about you and MAAAASONNNN” they broke out into an uneasy laughter.

I don’t remember the rest of the night, but I barely spoke to those girls again. There was no fight or great blow up, we just grew apart.

My Grams died a few years later. Sarah and her family showed up to the funeral, and even though we didn’t stay close, her presence reminded me of the good times we shared with Grams. We caught up and reminisced, I was surprised when she brought up the notebook.

“Did you ever write in the book she gave you on your 10th birthday?” She questioned.

“Not really, I don’t have a lot of time.”

She put her arm around me and leaned her head against mine.

“You should, it will make you feel better,” she suggested.

“I guess.” I lied, nothing could make me feel better, I was devastated and I didn’t think I’d ever be happy again. That night as I cried myself to sleep, I decided to write in my book for the first time.

Dear Diary...

Wazzzup? Grams funeral was today and Sarah reminded me of this book. Grams wanted me to write my goals.

1. Stop being sad

2. Honor Grams legacy.

Xo Amethyst

The next day I thought about how to stop being sad. I organized my closet but it only felt like a distraction from my feelings, so I finished and moved on. I tried to listen to music or dance and it felt shallow or hit too close, too soon. I eventually found my way to Grams stuff. There was so much she could have supplied a craft store.

Painting was not my thing, I was too clumsy for dollhouse minis, and somehow, I made a vanilla cake explode. I was only 12 but giving up wasn’t my thing. I moved on to her fabric, it filled a room. A room that smelled and felt like her. I could feel her energy and I knew I was meant to be there. I went to her patterns, and in the first drawer were binders of drawings from my childhood. They were stuffed with dresses I drew, outfits I wanted, almost all of which, my Grams made. The next drawer was filled with her own designs, many brought back memories of her wearing them. My favorite was the purple blazer, whenever she wore it, I knew it was going to be a great day. She loved purple so much she convinced her daughter to name me after a purple rock.

I grabbed the pattern for the purple blazer and decided to make my own. After making the blazer, I continued to make clothes in her honor, and never stopped writing in my black book.

Middle school passed quickly and I went on to flourish in high school. A few months before graduation, Sarah reached out to let me know she got accepted to the school we always planned on going to. I was excited we were both keeping a life long promise. She told me where her dorm was and I was shocked that it was right across the hall from mine. We started hanging out everyday and planning the next few months. I always missed Grams but I was finally starting to feel happy again.

The time came to move into our dorms and nothing could prepare me for my college experience. The sun didn’t even set before Sarah turned into a complete monster. Apparently she was the “Greenest Gremlin” of all. She made no effort to conceal she only befriended me so that she could make my life hell.

“Amethyst with the cool name. Amethyst with the cool clothes. Amethyst with her magic book. Our whole lives you’ve literally been handed everything and I’ve always had to watch and be happy for something I wouldn’t experience.” She pouted, as I tried to unpack and organize my things.

“You know everything isn’t perfect and the book isn’t magic, I worked hard.” I stopped to look at her. “Ever since Grams died everyone fell apart and I buried myself looking for a connection to her. I just try and see the positive in things and stay organized like she did.” I was ashamed I had to make excuses for my achievements.

“Where is your stupid black book anyway?” Her face looked sinister as she rumbled through my things. I tried to stop her but she was strong and pushed me off with a flick. She found my book and sprinted across the hall to her room, locking the door behind her.

“GIVE ME MY BOOK SARAH!!!” I banged and kicked repeatedly. She eventually opened the door and threw the book at me.

“There’s your stupid book, have fun!” She slammed the door in my face.

I picked up the book and looked through it. She had written in it with permanent marker.

“Party too much,” “Become an alcoholic,” “Get pregnant,” “Drop out.” “Live miserably every after.”

I was devastated. She wrote over years of my accomplishments, transforming words that were once beautiful memories, into a painful lesson. I wanted to throw the book out but I kept it as a reminder that sometimes enemies are closer. In hindsight I should have burned the book for Sarah’s sake, but sometimes people get what they deserve.

The next few years were a whirlwind. Nothing Sarah wrote in the book happened to me, but month after month I was saddened to see Sarah coming home later and later, drunk and drunker. Eventually, her grades got her kicked out and when I was graduating she was having her 3rd child by 2 brothers. Yeah her kids were cousin-siblings, talk about “miserably ever after.”

As for me, Mason and I reconnected when he transferred in from community college my junior year. After graduating he proposed to me with Grams ring, she was always there for special moments in one way or another.

When it was time to pick a dress, my mom revealed a secret she kept for 15 years. My Grams made the wedding dress I drew when I was 10 and she had been saving it all this time. My body overflowed with emotion and I fought to stand as joyful tears crashed to the floor. I was still trembling when I slipped into the dress. Crystals spilled down the long train, each hand-sewn with love. I felt like a princess examining every loving, perfectly fitting, stitch. As I looked at myself in the mirror I knew Grams would be proud, and I suddenly remembered something I drew on the dress.

“Hey Mom Check this out!!!”

I put my hands on my hips and slid them down the side of the dress.

“I drew pockets!”

As I reached deep into the pockets I felt an envelope and pulled it out hoping it was a letter from Grams. It was thick and heavy and it did contain a letter, along with $20,000. I don’t remember what the letter said as much as I remember waking up after hitting the floor. “They” always said Grams knew how to party.