dormiveglia part 2

Ralph was a little startled but he was trying to know what was going on.  He was happy his girl was married but something was a little off.  Who was that guy after all?

But no sooner was the war over than Ralph was shipped overseas.  Halfway around the world.  And here he met the gentlest kindest spirits he would ever know.  As my grandmother would say, they were such nice people, and it seemed practically all of them were artists.  And generous too.   One great painter there, upon seeing my grandfather's utter disbelief at the quality of his work, insisted on giving him a painting.  It now hangs above my son's bed where I hope it spreads good will.

Meanwhile Anne, my grandmother, chose to take the train to the far north to see the Frenchman who lived there.  And while at Paul Jacoulet's studio she bought the cheapest piece she could find, which is now dumped upside down at my sister's begging to be restored.

Finally, after six years they returned to the states, to Atlanta of all places.   And finally, I met him, as I was sent out on the first jet to make that journey.  I was as I always have been -afraid- of everyone. But Ralph had bought several hundred white candy hearts with words on them and filled a giant glass with them in my room.  I ate two or three of them but was careful to read the words first.  The next day a truck drove in to the hilly backyard and dumped a load of sand.  Ralph brought out a load of green army men and I played all day, carefully, not to disperse too much sand.  And at night we did the one thing allowed.  We watched Gorgeous George on television.  I wasn't allowed in the living room, nor in any other room really.

I was in heaven, I guess.  But Ralph was doing a lot of thinking.  You had only to watch him to see that.  Something had happened.  I knew that.  And Anne sat in the living room reading. -And on Sundays.  I knew they were Catholic.  But they didn't go to Mass.  And I, wisely, -cause I hated going, didn't ask about it.