the_hoard kerry it was a couple days and a couple bottles of wine before she loosened up. we were watching hoarders. i was kind of enjoying it and kind of hating myself for watching it, getting entertainment from all these wretched, fucked-up people and all their filth and misery, a true voyeur, but i didn’t bother to change the channel or even get off the couch. my mom was responding audibly to the show, projecting shock and revulsion and horror all over the room. when i finally asked her why she bothered to watch this–it was her idea after all–she told me about her grandmother, and it began to kind of make sense. ava was a nickname–she was really the second of four alices. she lived on a street called battery place, not far from where my brother lives now, in a little duplex where my mom found arrowheads in the front lawn. she was a piano teacher and hoarded clothes; she was rarely seen wearing the same outfit twice and always on-trend, though several decades behind. she favored purple, which is my mother’s favorite color, and which my grandmother, alice aka honey, hated. she hated purple because she hated ava. deep, velvety purple, nighttime sky purple, was what she liked. my mother has always preferred other variations, mauve and pale pearl, lilac and lavender. ava always wore too much perfume and a smashed corsage of fabric violets on her dress. she hoarded shoes, so many shoes. my mom also loves shoes, but they’re contained to a closet. ava’s shoes overflowed the closets. they lined the hallways and shelves, and the most precious pairs were kept in the bottom drawer of her bureau and never worn. she kept wrapping paper and old ribbons, had a whole armoire full of moldy gift-wrap. she kept candy and little plastic easter baskets, the kind that are filled with faux grass and foil-wrapped eggs and passed out in sunday school on easter. mom said the women on hoarders reminded her of ava–charming when she wanted something from you, but overall mean and sour, driving everyone away. when she visited ava’s house, she didn’t like to go inside. she liked to sit on the bench swing on the porch where ava would braid her hair or tickle her back with her long, red nails. “i hated staying there,” she told me, and visibly shuddered. “i had to sleep in this little room that was basically a shed built onto the back of the house. it was all painted blue and ava called it the little blue room, and it was only big enough for a cot and a little table. and i just laid there all night and was scared.” a view of a room packed with teddy bears and old balls flashed onto the screen. my mom squirmed. “my god, look at all that. how??” 220619 ... kerry not old balls, old dolls! 220619 what's it to you? who go blather from