Forlot: My Little Worry Worm - Book Eighty-Six

Chapter Four

"About time that you returned to your cozy house," my grandma said in her hoarse voice when we walked into the television room. She was crocheting pretty fast and rocking in the rocking chair that was hers before giving it to Mom for a birthday present. "And I was beginning to wonder if you ran off, leaving my delicate self to trot back home. I would not have gotten off your porch. My legs are not what they used to be. I could have kicked a ball into space! I wish that you were there, Daria."

Grandma enjoys chatting, mostly to me about both her and Mom's younger years. I enjoy listening to their fun yet embarrassing stories. I sure wish that I was present during the craziest times because I was skeptical. Then again, Grandma is not one to lie unless that she teases. Sometimes, she goes on tangents, which I do not mind if I have nowhere else to be. The laughable stories have yet to be a bore. I once suggested to her to volunteer as a storyteller at the bookstore and read to younger kids. She has not taken up on the offer. Maybe she forgot.

Clutching Mom's hand, Dad remarked, "Your daughter and I need to have a chat before we get settled."

"Did Daria's appointment not go well?"

His pale face was wearing an exhausted expression not because we had to awaken early for my appointment. I think that his expression changed when Mom dropped the bombshell. Her secret is more disturbing when you consider that my frightening story occurred during the Russia-Ukraine War. The Ukrainian citizens are not to blame, and neither should the Russian citizens. It is all about politics and power. If I could, I would banish the wokies and power-hungry individuals to a small island to fend for themselves. It could be a television series, a true reality show.

I do not want to make the war about me and my family because we are residing in a safe and prosperous town. We were not in Russia or Ukraine when the war began. We were not among those many innocent civilians who left their homes and some of their loved ones behind. I thank Jesus that we moved right before that nightmare of a war rocked our planet. However, the war managed to affect us in a small yet significant way. Too often, we are discriminated. Discrimination. Why not? Now why are we discriminated? 'Cause we are Russians. Russian Americans. We came from Russia.

The world blames Russians for invading Ukraine. Who cares about those Russian civilians? Ukrainians are the ones leaving their homes for safety thanks to Russia. If you are Russian, you are the devil like white people. So unfair and malevolent. Okay. If you think like this, you are an idiot. You deserve to be shipped to the island.

Whites should not be blamed for what happened years ago. Russians should not be shunned for a war that the politicians initiated. We feel the effects just as much as the Ukrainians. Instead of fighting one another, as well as ourselves, we should give full attention to this sinful planet. More specifically, the higher-ups. I will kick the elites where the sun never shines before I follow them!

Dad led Mom to the room behind Grandma, which was the kitchen. "It is not the appointment."

Grandma's head turned to look behind the chair. "Why are you kids so tensed? Did you get bad news? Did one of your friends call or...text you with bad news?" When she got no answer, she smirked and patted the cushion of the chair next to her. "Daria, sit with me and explain why tension is suddenly present in the house."

I sat and stared down at my clasped hands. I wanted to be in my warm room and take a nap even though that I was not at all tired. I did not feel like chatting with her. I was more worried than this morning. I could not stop my racing thoughts. Mom kept me and Dad in the dark for years. She knew something about the recent war.

"Daria?"

I ran my bottom lip against my teeth. My grandmother was wise. She might know how to relax my mind. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything. As long as it does not involve the Talk."

"It is about my constant worries."

She placed her yarn and long hooks in her lap and kept rocking. "Mmm-hmm."

"Well...have you ever worried to the point of your head exploding?"

"Lots when I was your age and a young adult."

"You do not worry much nowadays."

"You do not worry when you are in your golden years."

I lifted my head to look at her. A hair strand got caught in my mouth. I spit it out. "How did you stop worrying, Grandma? What helps you not worry a lot?"

"I thought that you had only one question."

"It just came to mind."

"You want to know a worry's weakness?"

"I have always wanted only a peaceful mind."

She stopped rocking and pointed to a small, purple bag on the floor between the chairs filled with tissue paper. "This present is for you, Daria. I was planning to give it to you after you and your parents saw your doctor. It is one of two things that will help you chase away all your worries. One cannot work without the other."

How did I not notice the bag?

I picked it up and set it in my lap. "Thanks, Grandma. I pray that your technique works."

"I swear on my life that your worries will vanish by the end of the week if you follow the steps."

"Can I open it now? Or should I wait for my parents?"

"You cannot wait for this any longer. Go ahead."

"Okay." I removed the tissue paper. "What is this?"