Information

Dulari has a minion!

Dixie the Flarb

Dulari
Legacy Name: Dulari

The

Nostalgic Irion
Owner: charming

Age: 12 years, 9 months, 2 weeks

Born: May 31st, 2013

Adopted: 12 years, 9 months, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: May 31st, 2013

Pet Spotlight Winner
April 10th, 2014

Statistics

Level: 145
Strength: 95
Defense: 65
Speed: 65
Health: 65
HP: 65/65
Intelligence: 130
Books Read: 126
Food Eaten: 0
Job: Glitter Master

du-lar-e: dear one, beloved (in sanskrit).

April 5th, 1996

“What do you want to do today, sweetie?” Nana asks me. I think hard, puffing out my lip to show her that it’s a hard choice. I’m trying to choose whether I want to go to the zoo or go out for ice cream when she asks, “How about a movie?”

I nod. Movies are great with Nana. She always picks the fun ones, and sometimes the bad guys say bad words but I don’t tell anyone because Nana is the best and I wouldn’t want to get her into trouble.

“Yes, Nana,” I say smiling, “a movie sounds fun.”

She laughs and swipes me up, kissing my cheeks and making me giggle. Sometimes she does that when she tells me stories about when Mama was young but I don’t know how to feel about those. I don’t see Mama much. Nana always looks heartbroken when she’s telling me those stories, so I would rather hear the funny stories about Rufus the Bear.

When she picks me up I think she’s the strongest Nana in the world. Sometimes it makes me sad, because I sneak looks at her when she thinks I’m drawing with my crayons and her face is kind of scrunched up like the way mine is when I get an owie, but when I ask her what’s wrong she tells me everything is okay and I have to believe her because she’s the smartest Nana there is!

“Okay, honey,” she says, kissing me on the forehead. “You go get ready to go.” But she’s folding laundry so I say, “I want to help you, Nan.” She lets me for a little while but I can’t make my shirts look as nice as hers so she tells me to go on and lace up my shoes while she finishes folding.

We watch 101 Dalmatians. It’s nice but I don’t really get some of the parts, so sometimes I look over to see if Nana’s laughing and if I should laugh too, but I just see her scrunching up her face. It makes me sad so I put my hand in her big warm one and rest my head on her shoulder.

I fall asleep during the movie (hopefully Nana doesn’t notice but she’s got a mind sharp as a tack so she probably does) and I wake up when the credits start to roll.

Nana is smiling a little bit while she looks at the screen and I think for a little while. I think that maybe she’s the most beautiful Nana there ever was, even if there’s a little bit of white in her hair and some lines on her face. It gives her character, like she always says.

She looks over at me and her smile gets bigger and she asks me, “Ready to go, honey?”

I nod, smiling back at her, and we walk out munching the rest of the popcorn, swinging hands.

On the drive home she asks me if I liked the movie. I say, “Yes,” but then I pause and say, “Actually I fell asleep, so I didn’t even see the whole thing.”

“I know, sweetie,” she says, grinning. “It was a great movie. You’ll have to stay up for the whole thing next time.”

I ask her what happened and she tells me what I missed. She’s the best storyteller there ever was. It’s like watching the movie all over again.

We stop to grab some ice cream and other goodies for me. When we get to the apartment she carries them up the stairs all in one trip because she’s the strongest Nana in the world.

When we get home, she sits on the couch and sighs. I ask her if she’s okay. She says, “Yes,” but I don’t believe her because she’s scrunching up her face again and holding her back.

“Is it your back again, Nana?” I ask, and she nods.

I sit down on the couch next to her and pat her back. “Don’t worry, Nana,” I say. “I’ll give you a backrub and that will make it all better.”

She laughs and says, “Okay.”

I’ve never given a back rub before so I’m not sure what to do, but I do my best anyway. I don’t want to hurt her, either, so I rub her back very gently.

“Feels like mice are pitter-pattering down my back!” she laughs.

“Do you feel better, Nan?” I ask, and she nods.

I keep doing the back rub until I feel a big lump on her back. It’s scary, and I ask her, “Nana, why does your back stick out like that?”

She sounds heavyhearted when she says, “Well sweetheart, it’s shaped like the letter S because of a car accident I was in as a teenager.”

That scares me, and I don’t know what to say. So I say, “Nana, I want my back to be just like yours one day.” Because even though her back isn’t perfect the rest of her is and I wish with all of my heart to be exactly like her when I grow old, s-shaped back and all.

She laughs a little bit, but it’s a somber laugh, not a happy one. “No you don’t, sweetheart.”

“Well, maybe when I’m all grown up I can be a doctor so I can make your back all better.”

I keep rubbing her back, not sure what else to say, until I get sleepy. The next thing I know, I’m in my bed and she’s above me, tucking me in, smiling.

The bedroom light shines behind her head like a halo.

She’s an angel, my Nana.

April 5th, 2013

I’m getting off my shift, driving home, when I think of her.

The guilt hits me like a wave. I’ve been so busy these past couple of weeks that I haven’t been able to pay Nana a visit like I used to do when I had more free time.

I feel horrible, so I dial her home number on the car Bluetooth and she picks up on the second ring. “Sweetheart, how are you?” she asks warmly.

“Hi, Nan,” I say, guilt making the words feel heavy in my mouth. “I’m so sorry. I’ve just been so busy with school and the internship at the hospital. I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“I know, honey,” she says. “Don’t you worry about it.”

I sigh. “Listen, Nana. I’m heading over there now. Is there anything you need from the store?”

She gives me a list. It’s small, of course, as it always is. She tries not to burden me with big grocery runs, but I know exactly what she needs. The list accounts for less than half of what I buy for her.

I pick up the necessary goods from the grocery store and drive over to her apartment. I’m out of breath by the time I reach the top of the 3 flights of stairs, and I wonder how she used to carry me up them when I fell asleep in the car as a child. I smile to myself, thinking just how amazing she is.

She opens the door with a smile on her face, eyes glistening, and envelops me like she used to when I was five years old. I set the groceries down gently and hug her tightly. I begin pressing my hands into the ridge of her misshapen back and molding her to me as if I could freeze us in this moment and keep time from pushing on. As if I could stop it from making her weaker and weaker.

She’s laughing and cupping my face, refusing to accept the fact that I’m an adult woman, treating me exactly as she had when I was a child. But I don’t mind.

“What should we do today, Nan?” I ask her, excited to be spending my day with her for the first time in so long. I squeeze her hand.

“How about a movie?” she asks.

She pops 101 Dalmatians into the DVD player and we plop down together on the couch. I watch it the whole way through this time, and I can’t help but think that she did it complete justice when she explained it to me in the car all those years ago.When I look over at her she’s smiling, but I see the pain in her eyes. “Let me see your back, Nana.” I say.

I examine it. The lump sticks out further than it did when I was a child. “Oh, Nana,” I say. There’s no way that the pain in my chest could equal the pain in her back, but I know it comes close.

I’m going to break, I feel the anger and frustration building deep in the pit of my stomach...but whom should I direct it towards? It’s nobody’s fault, I know that, but I feel so – so wronged, as if her damaged back were some kind of injustice aimed at me.

“I’m so sorry. I never truly understood how bad it was. I was just a child. I’m so sorry you’ve had to live with this. You of all people, it’s not fair.”

I’m crying suddenly. I wasn’t prepared for this onset of tears, like a flood. It takes me by surprise, I don’t want her to see me like this.

She turns around, smiling still, and pulls me close. “Honey,” she says. “Don’t worry. I’ve lived this long and I’m still alive and kicking.”

Her voice does not waver but I feel her warm teardrops on my shoulder.

“I’m going to save you, Nana,” I say. I realize how childish it sounds. “I’m becoming a doctor just like I said I was going to all those years ago; I’m going to save you.”

I can’t stop myself from blubbering. I can’t stop my chest from heaving.

Scoliosis, herniated discs, and compressed discs, the doctor had told me...she’s a strong woman to have survived.

She hugs me tighter, tells me it’s okay and I have to believe her...she’s the smartest Nana in the world.

I decide to stay the night; I just want to be close to her.

Later, I fall asleep on the couch and wake to see her bending over me, tucking the blankets under my curled body. I smile up at her. She smiles back down at me, the living room light forming a bright halo behind her head.

She’s an angel, my Nana.

This pet was made to represent that one person in life you can't live without. That one person that truly makes your world rotate on its own axis. For me, it represents one of the best people in my life, my best friend and the woman I grew up with: my grandmother.
Dulari was born on May 31st at exactly 10:00:00 p.m, 79 years after my grandmothers birth :heart: