The Kaleidoscope

The Kaleidoscope

         

        Kenny perched in the sunshine on the rock retaining wall in front of the house, which it had kept from sliding into the Ohio River, since 1808.  He lived with his great grandmother in the weathered brick home seventy feet above River Road, which followed the course of the meandering river that divides Kentucky from Ohio.

         “Kenny,” called the eighty two year old woman from the porch. She was so small and so thin that it appeared a slight breeze would blow her away.  Looks are sometimes deceiving. Alice was much more firmly planted than her seventy five pound weight would suggest possible. “Come here boy, I need your help.”

         Kenny was a good boy, and appreciative that he had a good warm place to sleep, and plenty of good food to eat. ”Coming, Gran.” He scurried up the stairs to the porch where the old woman with the long white hair waited for him.

         “There are some things up in the attic; I’d like to have you help me go through.” They went into the house and Kenny started for the stairs that lead up the three stories to the attic. “Kitchen first, boy, I have a sandwich and an apple for you before we start.”  Her eyes twinkled, “I suppose growing boys are still hungry all the time.”

         Kenny was eleven and in the past few months since the auto accident which had claimed the lives of his family, he had known what it was like to be hungry.  It had taken  Gran a total of seven months to finally rescue him from the child welfare system in Ohio and move him to her home in Kentucky.  The old lady had considerable political clout and used it all to free him.  She was a tough old bird and would not take no for an answer.

         “Would you like milk with that?” she asked. They sat at an 1800 vintage solid walnut table.  She sipped her tea while the boy ate.

         Kenny cleared the dishes and rinsed them thoroughly under a stream of very hot water from the tap in the sink. He put them in the drain rack and turned offering Gran a hand getting up.

         “I’m not that old, boy, but I appreciate the offer.” Gran lead the way up the stairs to the attic.  It took a long while for the old lady to reach the door at the top of the stairs.  The door creaked after its long period of disuse. The attic followed the angle of the roof with two dormers with windows that faced the river.  The light from two hanging light fixtures and the afternoon sun shining through the windows, revealed the layer of dust over everything like a fuzzy blanket. “Can you open the windows, boy?”

         “Gran, I’ll try, could you please call me Kenny?”  He walked to the first window and turned the latch.  At first the window seemed stuck but finally he was able to open it a few inches at a time. The screen on the outside showed age but was still essentially intact.  “That’s one, he said with pride.”  The second window offered less resistance than the first and was soon open wide.

         “You done good, Kenny. I called you boy because sometimes I forget names.”

         “It’s OK Gran.”  He smiled warmly at the old woman. “I saw Miles, the handy man, unload a stack of boxes and put them into the garage.  Are the boxes for this job, Gran?”

         “Yes Kenny, I’m going to sit on this old trunk and try to figure out where to begin. On the next floor down is a closet in the hall filled with cleaning supplies. There are twenty five pounds of sweeping compound in a burlap bag. Can you lift that much?”

         “I’ll try Gran, I’m stronger than I look.”

         “Good boy, Kenny.”

         Kenny brought up the sweeping compound, a broom, a dustpan and a wastebasket as well as a giant can of Pledge. Gran tore several rags from an old shirt that had belonged to pop before he died.

         “It has been at least twenty five years since I was up here last,” said Gran.  “I spent many hours up here when I was a child.”

         Kenny just looked around with wide eyes at the eclectic assortment that had been collected over two hundred years. He had no idea what many of the things were. A dress form stood by an ancient treadle sewing machine.

         “My doll collection is in those two cupboards, they belonged to my mother and grandmother, most of them were made in the old country.  I’m going to have an appraiser price them in preparation for an antique auction.”

         “I think we will start with that big chest of drawers, it is full of Pop’s old clothes, if you see anything you can use it’s yours.”

         By evening, Kenny had made twelve trips to the garage.

         “Kenny, I have a small roast in the slow cooker, along with vegetables, potatoes, and gravy. I believe there is some homemade ice-cream in the freezer. You have earned a reward.  Wash up good, and make sure the windows are closed before you come down.”

         Kenny closed the windows, looking down on the river he saw a long string of barges headed downriver. He watched them for a few minutes wondering where they came from and where they were going.

         “Hurry up Kenny.”  The old woman’s voice carried clearly up the stairs. “Remember to wash up.”

         When they were both seated at the table, she took his hand and gave thanks for the meal and for Kenny’s company. “My mother used to say a prayer over our meals,” Kenny said.

         “She was my daughter’s daughter; it is good to know my children carried on what I taught them.”

         Kenny was very silent and the look of being lost in deep thought crossed his young face, making him look much older, than his eleven years.

         “I know you miss Ellie and Frank, and your sister Nicole. We are blood, you and I, and we must stick together.  You are my only living relative.” The Gran smiled at Kenny her eyes aglow with feeling.  “I want to sell everything except this house as soon as I can. The money will be placed in a trust so you can attend the university of your choice.”

         “Gran, I got behind when I was in foster care.  I felt so lost and all alone.”

         “You are not alone anymore. I will help you all I can." She touched his hand softly. “Ready for ice-cream?”

         They did the dishes together and went to the front porch.  Kenny had brought a second chair from the attic and placed it close to Gran’s chair. They sat and watched the river in almost reverent silence.

         “I never get tired of watching the river,” said Gran. The moon had risen and the light spilled in a luminous fan across its surface.

         They spent ten days moving treasures from the attic to the antique shop with Miles and his helper carefully loading and unloading Miles’ truck. All that was left in the attic was the locked steamer trunk that Gran sat on the first day she brought Kenny to the attic.

         Kenny finished sweeping for the twentieth time and dumped the last of the compound into the waste basket. “I’ll go empty this now, Gran.”

         “Come back here when you’re finished. I have some things for you.” She he took a key out of her apron, Kenny heard it rattling in the lock as he carried the last load of trash down to the alley behind the house.

         Kenny hurried, he was full of curiosity. “What had Gran waited till the last to show him?”

         When he returned to the attic the trunk was open. On the very top was a flat woolen cap. “This all belonged to my father.” She placed it on Kenny’s head. Then she took out a large brass cylinder wrapped in a blanket and mounted on a brass cradle. It was a perfect fit for the trunk lid.  Underneath was a large brass tripod with a socket to hold the cradle and a thumb screw to hold it firmly. Kenny helped her lift the heavy tripod and set it in front of the window. They placed the cradle into the socket tightening the thumb screw to hold it. The last part to mount was the cylinder. She carefully unwrapped the blanket exposing the Germanic words inscribed upon it. Its large end faced the window and they tipped it till smaller end was eye level for Gran.

         “This was made in the old country for an Archduke’s son. He gave it to my father for passage to America.”

         “What is it Gran? It looks like a telescope.”

        “It is called a kaleidoscope. Look in here and turn the crank.”

        “Wow Gran, it is beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
        The colors of the rainbow were distributed among the cut crystal beads and bits of ribbon which tumbled over and over as the gear on the end of the crank rotated the end third of the cylinder.

        “It is never the same picture twice,” said Kenny.

        “Whenever things seem to be too hard to handle remember to look through it.  It brings peace to troubled minds and rest to troubled hearts.”

        Through the attic window, he watched the changes of season, and the weather and how the river was like the kaleidoscope. It was never exactly the same twice.

        Kenny grew in stature and understanding in his time with Gran. When she passed, he understood she would always be with him showing him new pictures inside the kaleidoscope

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Word Count 1629