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Nurse overseas.
Live!
One page and it tells me so much about my grandmother. I turn the page as though I’m reading a great book. Only the next few entries are about my grandfather and her private times, so I skip those.
I’m surprised by the time lapse between her entries. There’s no mention of special times like birthdays or her parents.
17th December 1956
Today I met a doctor who told me all about his travels. It wasn’t the discovering unknown places or staying in luxury hotels that impressed me, but his time volunteering in Africa and South America.
It sounded so exciting, and listening to him, I know, in my heart, it’s what I want to do. Ethiopia is where I want to travel. Africa, the mother country. The large animals, well, I wish I had enough money saved so I could leave now. I’m having lunch with him in the cafeteria tomorrow.
I have many questions I want to ask. First, I need to set a plan for my savings. Not only to get there but how much I’ll need to live on if I’m away for twelve months or more.
I take a moment to absorb my grandmother’s words. No mention of Christmas. Only her dreams and not a word about my grandfather. Is she still with him? I flip the page and realize she is because the next few lines are about intimate times. More private times follow on several pages, but on skimming the words, not once do I find mention of the wordlove.
13th September 1957
Matron hates me.
I wonder if she knows I’ve been sneaking out at night?
Maybe she likes Dr. Anderson? That could be it since she didn’t stop staring at me when I sat with him at lunch. When I giggled—well, laughed loudly—at his story, she came over to the table and stood over me and said, “Nurse, isn’t it time you went back to the ward? Your lunch break is over.”
She didn’t like that I had a reply and told her I was on the afternoon shift.
“Then keep it down,” she said like I was a child. “You’re disturbing the other staff.”
She is so prim. I bet she’s frigid too.
Shit. My gran is a bad ass.
I’m not ready to stop reading so I turn the page.
18th December 1957
Albert’s grandparents died last month. As sad as it was, his cousin inherited money since they were the next generation of first-born males. The concept angered me, knowing the daughters of his uncles got nothing. Albert is an only child, so there were no siblings to feel sorry for because I’d be speaking up if I were his sister.
Family. I’m glad I’m not close to my parents. But there are days I’d be grateful for some support because I worry about where I’m going to live when I finish nursing. Without even asking, I know what my dad would say. “Marry Albert.”
Albert is always thinking of our future even though I never bring it up with him. How can I when the unknown scares me?
He has a surprise for me for Christmas.
I’m nervous because I hope it’s not a proposal.
My poor Pop. Even reading between the lines, I can tell how much he loves Gran.
2nd January 1958
Albert has bought a motel complex. Three levels on the esplanade at Glenelg. He said we could run it together, have a family, and set up a future for them. On paper, it makes sense. He purchased it at a bargain price because the building needs repair. Only I never envisaged this as my future. He didn’t even ask me if it’s what I wanted.
It’s ‘my’ Christmas present, and now I feel bad for being ungrateful.
I’m so confused.
He hasn’t spoken to me in a week.
