Free Carpe Bead'em by Tonya Kappes

won’t be staying
longer than my twelve weeks, if I make it that long.
    The bracelets
will be a great way to end our spa trip.
    “I want something
fun and unique.” I concentrate on all the different-colored glass beads.
    “Why don’t we
start with something very simple, so you can get the hang of it.” Dee takes the
glass beads I had selected and puts them on the bead tray along with the
sterling silver balls. “If you lay them out before you string them, it makes
things so much easier.”
    I watch as she creates
a pattern.
    With a small bit
of confidence, I pick up the wire and repeat, “Glass, silver, glass, silver.”
After a couple, I can start to see the beginnings of an actual bracelet.
    I smile.
    By the second
bracelet, I’m getting the hang of it and requiring less of Dee’s time except,
for the final crimp. Otherwise, with my luck, I might make the bracelets way too
big or too small.
    “Great job.” Dee
inspects both bracelets, and she notices the extra spacers I used on the second
one. “Awww, nice touch. You’re a pro already. Most beaders aren’t so bold until
the fourth or fifth time they come here.”
    “Just my
creative side,” I say, surprising myself, and dangle my creations into the
light, one by one.
    Each bracelet is
alike, with the exception of one bead. I put a different bead on each one that
reminded me of each of them.
    I haven’t made
anything since the third grade when I crocheted my mom a book-mark that turned
out to be strings barely sewn together. God love her, she used that book mark
with pride, lame as it was.
    The girls will
be surprised that I made these with my own two hands when generally my own two
hands are doing nothing more challenging than dipping down for my credit card. I can’t wait to
see their faces!
    “You’ll have to
visit a lapidary in Chicago.” Dee looks at me smiling.
    Okay the jokes
on me. What in the hell is a lapii…
    “Excuse me?” I
ask, pretending not to hear her. I can’t say the word, much less know what it
means.
    “Lapidary,” she
repeats.
    I play along,
saying lapidary over and over in my head, so I can Google it when I get home.
    “You know, a
bead store,” she confirms.
    “Oh, you said
lapidary.” I fake-laugh, trying to play it off. Bead store, duh! “I
don’t know of any. I’ll have to check it out.”
    “You are a
natural beader.” She is admiring the bracelets. “Usually people are shy and
timid their first time. But you, you came shooting right out of the gate and
got four completed. And the design is beautiful.”
    Aunt Grace’s
phone numbers flashes on my screen.  
    “Sorry, Dee,” I
say. “Hold that thought.”
    “Hello, Aunt
Grace.” I cradle the phone in between my ear and my shoulder while admiring my
creations.
    “I swear you are
psychic just like your mother.” Her voice is low and soft.
    “Caller ID.” I
put down the bracelets and hold the phone closer to my ear.
    “Are you down
here?” She questions me like she used to when I was a teenager.
    “Here where?”
    “Where do you
think, Hawaii? Downtown, of course.” There is a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
    Much better. She
sounds like my aunt I love. Her health is weighing heavy on my mind. 
    “No, I’m at a
store in Hyde Park. Why?”
    “I want you to
come visit,” she says.
    Visit? But I want to
bead.
    “It is my only
day off and I wasn’t planning on venturing downtown today.” I don’t want to
fight the cockroaches, nor spend the drive itching all the way home and having
to shower again.
    “We only have
nine more weeks, Hallie. You never know, I could be dead by then. I’ve only seen
you three times. ”
    Who the hell is
she kidding? Not only has she outlived all her siblings, she’s outlived most of
her nieces and nephews, plus a few great nieces and nephews. Heart disease has
taken most, in our family, but living past seventy-one is pushing it.
    “Just because
I’m going home in nine weeks doesn’t mean I won’t visit