As the light blue fuzz feathered through the warm current of air purring from the heating vent, I drew in a deep, exasperated sigh, and listened to my lungs whine with complaint. Here I was again. Sitting through the usual, lengthy lecture from my charismatic Grandmother, who garbled and squawked continuously. The temperature in the room was overwhelming and as I again adjusted myself in the seat, I could feel the heater lashing scorching lances across my undefended back. Sweat began to trickle down my temple.
The heat was almost embodied .It consumed the room, pacing back and forth, tracing my limbs and neck with it's white hot fingers. My throat constricted and I forced a smile, tasting the electric in the air. Squinting my eyes, I focused attention back to my Grandmother and tried to ignore the terrible feeling of being swallowed alive by a scorching beast. She didn't seem to notice my discomfort though, and continued to babble on. Her sweater was a bright, light, blue today, and sent the familiar smell of peppermint wafting my way on another warm catch of super-heated air. The feathery clothing piece was warm and comfortable I'm sure, but obviously falling apart at the seams. As I observed the way the tender fabric protested, another turquoise fluff from her sweater was drawn up into the heating vent, and my eyes darted away from her face to watch it's graceful decent. It blew to and fro through the toasty air, twirling and flipping like an acrobat. I wondered if it was cooler up there. My mind continued to wonder, but when my eyes drifted to her offended face, and i realized her talking had ceased, I again directed my attention back to her, and watched her careful face as she spoke. "Sarah said we're having jello again for lunch tomorrow," grandma sighed. "They feed it to us almost everyday. Jello, jello jello. Why they think we never tire of it, I'll never know!" She heckled playfully and smiled at me, her wrinkles lifting and her face lighting up. I nodded at her, and she squeezed her eyes shut like she just noticed something. " My goodness! It's rather chilly in here today," She wrapped her frail, spider- veined hands around her thinning arms and pretended to shiver. I forced a smile again, praying to God that she would talk about something I could focus more easily on. "Tell me that poem i like, Grandma," I urged. My mind flashed back to my childhood. Visions of her younger, livelier face danced through my head. There i was, sitting on the floor, my back against the cozy, embroidered couch, listening to the same poem. T-Shirt bottom rolled up above my stomach, hair pulled back into a ponytail, sweat trickling from my pores. A cold, refreshing pink lemonade clutched in my hand, condensation dripping over my tiny fingers. The memory upturned my lips gently, and I drew in a pleasurable breath and listened. She began to recite it, and i relished the fact that my ears could now focus in on her soft, soothing words. I relaxed in my chair and put my feet up on the coffee table in front of me, enjoying the feeling of comfort. Grandmother's hands clenched and revolved around her wrists, rhythmically dancing to her rhymes As she continued her requested story, my eyes began to droop, and the intensity of the heat swam to the back of my mind. It no longer bothered me. And with the smell of peppermint, the soothing sound of my Grandmother's voice, and the warm arms of heat wrapped around me, i let my eyes close, and descended into the calming darkness of sleep.
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