Stacy Matthews - Dear Mary 01 - Think Twice Before You Order Read Free

newly remodeled shopping mall than airport. I stopped by one of the
coffee shops and grabbed a cup. Carefully balancing my coffee and bag, I went
outside to get a cab. That is one of the biggest differences between Kansas
City and New York. Now I know what you’re thinking. Out of all the differences
between Kansas City and New York you notice the cabs? What you may not
understand is, in New York, to the naked eye, it appears there are as many cabs
as people. When you look out into the street in New York there are more cabs
than any other kind of car. It’s not the case in Kansas City. I had to grab one
of the skycaps to see if he could help me. It took about ten minutes. He was
finally able to find one, I jumped in, gave the driver the address and we were
on our way.
    Now for small town people and small town living. You know how
you get that warm feeling when you think of something from your childhood?
Whether it’s something you ate or time you spent with your family at holidays?
Then when you try to recreate that exact situation or feeling it never measures
up to your memory? Well Edwardsville isn’t like that. It’s exactly the same as
it was when I was a kid. It doesn’t seem to matter how old I get, it’s like
walking into a Thomas Kinkaid painting. It gives me the sense that everything
in the world well be all right. It’s a little creepy, yet comforting.
    When you live in the city for a long period of time the
skyscrapers become your trees. You just get used to it. Having grown up in a
small town where there are more trees than houses you wouldn’t think seeing
them again would be a big deal. But when I come home I’m amazed at seeing how
all those dark green trees gives me a sense of calmness and familiarity. There
are a few small parks scattered throughout Manhattan, and of course there’s
Central Park, but most people do not pay attention to any of those. When I try
to explain to my friends how much I miss seeing trees along the streets, they stare
at me as if I’m from a different planet. I try to get them to imagine walking
down the Avenue of The Americas, and in their minds eye replacing the flags
with trees. To them that would be like walking in a forest, which most of them
have never done or would ever think of doing.
    As we were pulling up to Grandpa’s house it was like entering
the Twilight Zone . Nothing in the neighborhood had changed. No matter
how often I come back I am still in awe at the Berger’s, four houses down, they
still have the lovely and apparently timeless ornaments in their yard. I swear
they are the same ones they had when I was in the fourth grade. Goes to show
you if you take care of your things they will last forever. Grandpa’s house is
on Newton between Fourth Street and Sixth Street. A beautiful brick ranch with
wood shutters, and a yard that is always the envy of the block. Grandpa isn’t
the yard ornament type. There are neatly shaped shrubs, and flowerbeds around
the trees. The yard is the one thing he makes sure is kept up. My father was
like that as well. I don’t know how that gene skipped me, but it did. That may
have also played a part in what drew me to New York ; no lawns. I paid the driver and started up the walk. I knocked on the front
door, despite my urge to bust in and find him ten feet from the phone. It is
his house and I needed to be considerate of his privacy, for now.
    When he didn’t come to the door, I walked around the house.
No windows broken, no doors pried open. Just like the police said. Nothing to
indicate something was wrong. I went back to the front door. I thought I had
waited the appropriate amount of time for him to get up, put on a robe, and get
to the door. I knew there would be a key under the welcome mat, so I let myself
in. As the door opened I yelled “Grandpa it’s me, Sid your granddaughter, are
you home?” There was no reply. I have no idea why I said my name. At this point
I’m fairly certain I’m the only granddaughter