The Whale, Chapter 5

a novel in verse

Photo by Luke Porter on Unsplash

Helga’s watch was supposed to detect
Anytime she fell or completely wrecked
Her car, or suffered some other calamity,
And alert the authorities, but now it was buzzing
To tell her a call from her granddaughter Hannah
Was coming in, so she hastened back
Into the house to find her phone.

Hannah, the daughter of the aforementioned
Ben, was a brilliant, wild, and well-intentioned
But sometimes troubled soul whom Helga
Was trying to help get through a stint
Of college education in Montana
And overcome the pull of the millstones
That seemed to want to drag her down.

The phone initially could not be found
As Helga muttered and looked around
The kitchen, the living room, and down one step
Back through the library to her bedroom
Where sure enough there it sat
Beside the bed and still plugged in,
Drawing power from dams and windmills.

She missed the call but dialed back
And Hannah’s voice came like a smack 
Of soft lips upon one’s cheek:
“Hi, Grandma, how are you?” the voice
Intoned, gently rising and falling
And rising again like the autumn wind
On this oddly warm November First.

“Hi—— Hannah!” Helga stretched out the aye
Of the “Hi” and looked out at the sky,
Blue and bright but with a few
Clouds drifting over the river towards
The Palouse hills and the scablands beyond,
The land populated with pioneer ghosts
And echoes of Indians in this Indian Summer.

“I’m doing fine, sweetie. It’s really warm here.
I just had my coffee and wished it were beer.
How are you? Is it getting cold in Bozeman?”
“Ha, I wish I could have a beer for breakfast, too,
Grandma. And one more for dessert,
Like the song says. Except
I don’t really like the taste of it.”

“After your dad was born, the doctor
(And my mom was there, which shocked her)
Prescribed a beer a day for a week post-birth.
I’ve loved beer ever since, but I can’t
Tolerate the alcohol 
Anymore. Old age sucks!” 
“I love you, Grandma,” came Hannah’s laughing reply.

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