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Poppa Dwells in my Basement
Poppa passed away in the rear bedroom of my house I now call my Studio. This is the story of how I met Poppa.
There was a workshop in the basement when I moved in. A man-cave. It’s quiet and dark, very conducive to thinking. I spent quite a bit of time down there, cleaning it up and making it my own. One morning, I found an old photo of twin boys, around age seven, resting on a counter. It must’ve been taken in the thirties. Don’t know where it could’ve come from. Countless people have come through this house. Contractors, inspectors, realtors, buyers and none of them stumbled upon this photo. I looked up to see if it could’ve fallen from a shelf. Nothing. Just rafters.
Poppa was saying hello.
He built his life in this house with his Wife Aurora, who planted the camellias in the front yard. I got this intel because I was still receiving their mail. I wanted to give the mail to someone, in case it was important and somehow I connected with Mark.
Mark was the boyfriend of the granddaughter who lived in the house with Aurora, right before I bought it. He told me Aurora’s kids put her in a senior home and cashed in on the house. Consequently, they also evicted him and the granddaughter from the house. They lived there as Aurora’s caretakers (probably rent-free). It was contentious.
Out of nowhere, he asked me, “Have you seen Poppa?” I didn’t know why my reply was, “Yes.”
He tells me that Poppa was always down in the basement. He was a handyman who owned a Fix-it-Shop down the block. Poppa never liked Mark and would always make him hit his head on things down there. He was very protective of his granddaughter. Poppa returned to the house to make sure Aurora was okay. But now she’s not there anymore, so he just tries to be helpful.
“He will help you find things,” said Mark, “The next time you lose something, just ask Poppa where it is and he will show you.”
I don’t know how to explain it, but Mark was right. Whenever I’m looking for something I’d say, “Poppa, where is the _______?” I clear my head, turn around and what I’m looking for is the first thing I see.
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