Corrina's Eyes

 I was always mesmerized by Corrina’s eyes. Ever since I was little, going to work with mamma. While she cleaned and cooked for Corrina, Ms. Abernethy to me, I would wander the old Victorian house, looking for treasures, often I would just sit and look at her eyes.
            Ms. Abernethy would sit silently on her recliner, staring at nothing. She was mostly blind, and a stroke had left her lame. Sometimes I would sit in front of her and imagine what she might be thinking. I would pretend I saw the world through her milky blue eyes.
            Ms. Abernethy was the oldest person I knew. I swear, I had never seen so many wrinkles. Her skin looked like fancy paper. Mamma had a lot of old people she helped, but none as old as her. She had a peculiar odor, as a child, I would describe it as moldy cheese. That always made mamma laugh and she would scold me, telling me to be nice.
            Mamma would tell me stories about what a fine lady Ms. Abernethy had been in her day. Her grandparents had been one of the first families to make their home in Oregon. There was even a street named after them, so I knew she must have been famous!
            I loved exploring in the big house; sometimes I even ‘borrowed’ trinkets that I especially liked. Being in Corrina’s house was like being in a museum, only better because I could touch everything and pretend I was Ms. Abernethy when she was young.
            When mamma was busy downstairs, I sometimes snuck into Corrina’s room which was almost larger than  our whole apartment. I would try on the pretty dresses and strappy heels, looking at my reflection in the enormous mirror.
            I was in every little girl’s heaven- the ultimate dress up game. I imagined how a fine lady like Corrina must have acted, and could spend hours in the world I had created for her. I had never heard her speak, but I just knew she had a Brittish accent. All of the rich and fancy ladies had one.
            I chatted properly with no one in particular, other than the people in Corrina’s photos. There was Miss Osterlander- the tall thin blonde in the photo by her bedside. Then, the old man on the wall, who looked liked Abraham Lincoln.  When I was hidden away in Corrina’s room, my friends were endless.
           
            Those days seem so far away now, as I sit here in my own recliner. My grand daughter visits now and again, but mostly it’s just me, my memories of friends I really never had, and of course, Corrina’s eyes. I keep them with me always. Sometimes I even hold them, the cool smooth spheres rolling gently in my fragile hands.
            When Corrina died, she left them to me. Somehow, mostly blind and unable to move much on her own, she knew how much I enjoyed them. In the rare times when I spoke to Ms. Abernethy, it was about her eyes.
            “Grandma, here, you must have dropped these when you dozed off. Would like them back in their jar or in your hand?”
            I looked up at my grand daughter, an image of my younger self and smiled. “I think I’d like to hold them for just a bit longer Corrine.”
            She put the two marbles back in my hands and moved the marble jar closer to my chair. “You have to be careful, grandma. You could hurt yourself if you stepped on the marbles when you got up.”
            I thanked her, and squeezed her hand. I slumbered with a slight smile on my face, memories of the marbles that looked so much like eyes, in my mind.