Antonia, Are You There?

This past fall, I heard about a project titled, “Thirty Minute Fiction” that I heard on NPR where you write a story in 600 words or less. The writing assignment was to think about an American President fictional or not where I submitted my story in late September. This last assignment was a story framed as a voice mail message. The only story that comes to mind is the long winded messages my mother used to leave me. Now that she’s past, I miss those messages more than ever. They would go something like this. (This dialogue is purely fictional, but not too far off what she might say. It would be in Greek though.)

    Antonia, I thought you were coming over. You know I have to go to the store today – Dave’s supermarket has a sale on fruit and vegetables – the leeks in particular I’m most interested in. I have to make “Pita” for the holidays. After we leave Dave’s, I have to stop by Marc’s to get milk and canned tomatoes that you know I need to make chili. I know it’s your favorite.

    Antonia, are you there? I am now looking at all the advertisements I got in my mailbox; I see more deals at K-Mart. So, we need to stop by there on the way home too.

    I don’t want to bother you because I know you’re really busy. We have to go to the stores today because the “specials” are only good until today.

    Did I tell you that I spoke to your Godmother yesterday for almost three-hours? Honestly, that woman sure does know how to talk. We start the conversation talking about her children – enough already about her kids. I’m tired of hearing about them over and over. Your Godmother sometimes forgets what she’s already told me.

    Suddenly, we go back in time to when we were children in Greece. I’ve told you kids many times; we didn’t have anything back then but I had a good childhood. I had so many friends. We used to meet up at the center of town and talk. I do miss those days.

    You Godmother is definitely a broken record. She keeps telling me about the property she has in Greece that her kids are helping her finance. They’re going to remodel her mother’s old house. She wants to leave something for her kids.

    I’m sorry Antonia, I won’t have anything to leave you kids when I’m gone. I’m very upset about that. Your aunt has taken everything. But that’s okay, now that I think about it because I don’t want to go back to Greece and deal with her anymore. I don’t want the headaches. I’ve had a good life here in America with you kids.
   
    Antonia, can you hear me? You are such a good kid. You take me to all the neighborhood stores. Your sister does too but I can always depend on you to remember the important things, right?

    You know what I’ve always told you, be nice to everyone you meet. Smile and shake their hand. Even if you don't feel like it. Just pretend; I always do. I know some of the Greeks at church never understood why I never learned how to drive. I never needed to; I had your father for that. He was a good man, your father. I feel blessed that I had a caring family. I’m sorry I never told you.

    Antonia, I need you to come over – now! I need help. Antonia  . . .
   
    Antonia has played that recording over and over; It gives her comfort that her mother is still with her. “I miss you mom,” she mouths as she presses the “play” button.


    As I think about my mom, I do miss those crazy voice mails she used to leave me. They weren’t quite as long but she would leave details about how she must go to the store or what she learned on “Oprah” that day. It was my mother’s way of letting me into her life no matter how mundane it was.

    I called her every day and visited a few times a week to eat her “out of this world” chili. It is still my favorite comfort food. I learned how to make it according to her recipe; but I’m sorry Mom. I think my version is even better.


Three Minute Fiction

http://www.npr.org/series/105660765/three-minute-fiction