Wouldn't it Be Nice

The following piece was written as an exercise in writing a narrative based on this picture so I could attempt to get myself out of a writing rut. Or maybe I should call it a "I haven't written shit in months" rut. I reimagined the person in the image to be a woman, the family matriarch, where her great-grandson is introducing her to a piece of today's technology. Once I got going, it poured out of me.

Hope you enjoy.

-VW

"You said you'd play the Beach Boys," Nanny screamed.

He looked down at his phone, panic-scrolling through his music app. The bluetooth headphones on his great-grandmother's silken white hair looked so out of place. A clash on on the timeline where her days with the megaphone on her mother's Victrola could never predicted cordless reception.

When the device synced up to a playlist, he figured his favorite metal band must have been first in the queue. Nanny's eyes watered in horror, her mouth hanging open in concerned shock for the state of the world with this sound existing in it.

"Shit. Sorry, Nanny. Give me a second," he said.

"You watch your language, Chase," she judged. Never mind the fact that "shit" was her favorite expletive every time she found a pest in her garden or dropped the can of Sevin Dust on her foot.

His thumbs took him to the search screen. He found her favorite song and hit play. The tension on her face eased, her eyes closed for just a moment. A quiet hum rose from her throat as she resumed her task on the front porch.

He tapped her shoulder. "Do you like it, Nanny?"

"What?" She overcompensated in her volume.

He lifted the left earpiece. "I asked if you like it. Like do you want me to let Beach Boys keep playing while you shuck?"

"Yes, Darlin'," she drawled. "Now lemme get back to my corn."

He smiled as he replaced the earpiece and gently kissed the delicate skin of her forehead. She shooed him away with her non-dominant hand so as not to jab him accidentally with her shucking peg.

He went inside to make them each a glass of iced tea while he built her a list. He knew all of her favorites from when she and Pepaw would put on a record and let it play through the screen door during their garden chores. Snapping beans, braiding garlic, dusting the dirt off the potatoes. They'd set the speed of their rocking chairs to whatever Beach Boys song drifted out to them. And when their work was complete, Pepaw would grab Nanny's hand and gently spin her into a slow dance where his tempo almost never matched the song's. He was well aware of the fortune of such genes that allowed four generations to exist in the same years. He wouldn't know until he met his wife the fortune of having been a quiet witness to what love should look like.

Nanny's voice called from the porch. "Chase, Darlin'! I don't like this one."

The song must have ended and moved to something else at random before he could cue up the list he was making for her. He walked out to the porch with two glasses of tea and placed one on the table beside her where the unshucked ears were stacked.

"I've got you, Nanny. Sorry."

He tapped his phone's screen to return to her song so he could complete his goal. She softened again and ripped through the green husk in front of her, adeptly adding to the pile of husks and silks in the washtub at her feet. Her rocking chair moved back and forth to a rhythm he couldn't hear. He tried to sync the way the rockers struck the porch planks to the soundless song in his head.

Creak, creak, grind. Creak, creak, grind.

Wouldn't it be nice if we were older...

He assumed his spot on the steps below her, realizing a few things were missing from this scene. His toy trucks and pocket frogs had brought a rhythm of their own each time he visited during garden chores. He sipped his tea and looked to the other rocker. He had never dared to sit in Pepaw's spot.

He finished the list and gave Nanny a little wave to get her attention. Her chin tucked in concentration, she peered at him over her glasses. He motioned for her to take off one ear so he could announce that a list of Beach Boys variety was ready for her listening.

"Well, that is kind of you, Darlin'. But I only want to listen to this one." She struggled to get the earpiece back to its place over her ear in one move. Then she found her rocking pace again.

He set the song to repeat infinitely. Nanny could listen until she was done shucking or moved to the point of being permanently annoyed by the song. He bet on the former.

When the final ear lay in a pile of gold, Nanny planted her hands on the rocker's arms to bring herself to stand. No movement came from the other rocker. A stroke had taken Pepaw the night after Chase's wedding.

"Here, Nanny, let me."

Chase gently removed the headphones from her ears and disconnected them from their source. She stood in slight confusion. She did not realize she was watching him turn up the volume on his phone and press play. There had been cranks and needles and factory-formed horns for the job in her day.

The song began again, their iced tea glasses leaving sweat rings while unattended. He took his great-grandmother in his arms and led her in a slow dance. They swayed right there on the porch where many dances had been shared to this song. The one Pepaw had playing when he proposed to Nanny many years before.