Orange Tic Tacs Sophie McCauley ‘21
T
he pre-K foyer area, with its white linoleum floors that are covered with a thin film of what can only be described as not dirt, remained day by day with the same grand humility only a floor could have. Opposite the floor, the ceiling hosts an array of fluorescent lights, a harsh power that juxtaposes the giggles seeping out from the classrooms and bathrooms. On a special Thursday, after only visiting her once a year, this magical stranger who never aged, my grandmother, emerged from the saloon doors guarding the women’s bathroom. At home in her western themed kitchen in the barracks of Colorado, my grandmother does not saunter quite as gracefully as the mid-60s grandmothers in the movie comedies. Her hips do not sway side to side with a sassiness unmatched in likeness. When I was young, I saw her argue with cutting, jagged yells and storm out rooms – she was not the soft, cushiony grandmother I wanted her to be. When she moves, it is not in a walk but in a gait-like awkwardness one could only describe as a dance of her weighted limbs. Yet as the burdens display on her body, she moves forward, not by another’s will but by her own. And by her own will, she caught my eye and sauntered over, silencing the linoleum tiles below her feet as her snow boots pedal down. As she scuffled over, she reached for her woven knit bag hanging on the cusp of her shoulder, drooping down her hunched over shoulders, and shoved her hand in, digging, digging, digging in the bag of wonders. In searching for the Tic Tacs promised, she continued to smile, bidding goodbyes to strange children she had never met who also were curious. Continuing to dig through the bag of necessities, of lip balm, readers, a handkerchief, essential oils, and vitamins, she revealed the piece of treasure that gleamed in my five-year-old eyes. Beholden to me was not the candy like breath refreshers but an earthly warmness in her excitement to share her findings with me. With the click and snap of breaking the orange flavored Tic Tacs’ seal, she shook them around, grinning at me with gleam. Reaching for my hand, her soft fingertips pulled my small hand towards the box, which tilted forward with control, so as not to waste a single tic. Tac, tac, tac, the candies rained down. She took my hand gently and wrapped hers in mine and whispered goodbye in my ear, gone without fully being understood. And with the shake of a box, the child-like excitement in her face disappeared, the joy plunged down and gone, replaced once again by the former burdens of adulthood. ESSE 2021 | 47
