EDITOR: Our SUV pulled to a stop outside the drive-through
cleaners. Inside, the endless rows of clothes wrapped in nice
plastic hovered about the room like spirits.
EDITOR:
Our SUV pulled to a stop outside the drive-through cleaners. Inside, the endless rows of clothes wrapped in nice plastic hovered about the room like spirits.
The sweet, Korean lady inside peered through the window. Her face lit up like a fire-pit at our sight, and she came softly stepping out to the drive-through stop. Her eyes were as bright as the sun, and she smiled at us happily.
“Hi Joan!” she bellowed. “Hi Mia,” my Mom returned, “How are you?” “I’m all right,” she looked at me and asked, “And how is my young actor? You do know that when you go up on stage to get your awards you are going to thank that young lady that dry cleaned your clothes, right?”
I laughed, and thought to myself, how am I going to manage to make it in the movie or theater industry. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there, and I feel like a poodle. “Of course I will, Mia,” I smiled. She ran her hands through my long, dark hair. Her small hands felt soft in my mane, and her warmth was comforting. I felt like saying, ‘How about a cup of tea later, Mia?’ But I just never asked.
All I ever wanted to do was to know about this sweet lady’s life. Where she was born, who she loved, and what she loved to do. What life was like back when she was as beautiful as her gardens in her front yard. Living in the same neighborhood, I would walk my dog past her house all the time, and I would see her house at least once a day, if not more. I never went inside, and I never got to smell those beautiful flowers that probably gave off an aroma like a sweet delicacy.
I was working on homework the night I heard the news. My mom came into the room quietly. Her eyes were glassy. Uh oh, I knew this wasn’t good. Maybe someone died, maybe a family member. The last person I expected her to say was what she whimpered out next. She clicked the television off like a light. Her face met mine like magnets, and then it hit me like a train. “Mia passed away yesterday,” she informed me quietly. “What?” “Yes. She was sick for 28 years, and it finally caught up with her yesterday.” “Mia?” “She requested that her family not hold any services, just to ask everyone to remember good thoughts about her and keep her in your prayers.”
I sat there quietly thinking of what to say. I opened my mouth but decided to keep quiet and remember my friend. I couldn’t believe it. The sweet little woman that used to greet me every time and boast about what a star I was, was gone. Forever. No more brushing my hair, no more reminders about when I get my awards, no more pleasant visits at the dry-cleaners.
That night I lay in bed, and did what she wanted me to do. I thought of all the good times we saw her, not that there were any bad times, but the exceptionally pleasant ones. This spring, I will be performing in a school play, and I will give my best effort, because I know that she will be up there watching me and shining all her affection down on me. I’ll always remember her when we have a favorite family snack. I remember she gave us a good food suggestion. Take rice crackers, and have them with an artichoke-jalapeno dip. It was delicious and my family fell in love with it. Much like we fell in love with Mia. Mia Verona, the wonderfully generous and nice woman from Creekside Cleaners was gone. Now all I can do is smell her flowers and sip tea with her in my dreams.
Mark Hayden, Morgan Hill
