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My Grandmother´s bells
MY GRANDMOTHER’S BELLS.
My grandmother’s house was a magical place, so big and so full of paintings and old furniture, a celling so high, as high as the sky, of course I was smaller then and everything seem taller. Then we had that wonderful aisle connecting the rooms to the rest of the house and in the wall everyone could see how a fan of miniatures my grandma’ could be. From music boxes to all the characters of toy story and in the middle of that wall, there was this glass cabinet full of bells.
Every time I was visiting her, I ran straight to the bells asking her to ring them for me “But first a cup of tea” she always said “But grandma you know I don’t like tea, I prefer coffee” We went to the kitchen I made her tea and she made my coffee “Decaf!” My parents yelled, “We need him to sleep” (I was a hyperactive kid) and so after the tea and the coffee we went to get the bells, we sat down and started always from the smaller one to the bigger one. Every bell had a story as unique as its sound; my grandma told me the story of every bell as she rang it softly. She had great memory and I always asked “Grandma how can you remember all this?” and she always answered “That what the bells are for, every sound is unique and when I ring them I remember when and why I bought each one of them”
We sat there for hours ringing the bells and telling the stories and when it was time to leave she always told me that it was my turn to put them back in their place and so there I was carefully storing the bells back on the cabinet, ringing each one as I placed them on their right place. However, there was one, my favorite; its sound was sweet, fluent and cheerful. With a perfect melody, the precise combination of high and low keys with the perfect vibration. That one was my favorite and I always placed that in the last place.
The bells are now in another wall, it is not full of magic and miniatures at all. It is a white and normal wall cause when my grandma passed away; she wrote on her will, that the bells were for me. They are now in my house, and I have taken care of them ever since. I ring them occasionally and think of each story they tell, thanks to them, I remember my grandma so well.
