She's Never Been to Graceland

Writing Prompt: Graceland


My momma named me Elvis. Elvis King to be exact. Little bit of irony in that name. Especially since I look nothing like the man. If there was an opposite of what Elvis looked like, I would be that man.

Yet, perhaps because my momma was a fan, I am too.

The two of us are going to Graceland, driving up there just the two of us. Pa is staying home. He doesn't really understand the whole Elvis thing- apparently he was into the Stones. I don't see how one has to exclude the other, but apparently it does. Perhaps I'm just too young to understand.

My momma and I are going to Graceland to celebrate. She just got cleared by her doctor. No signs of that pesky cancer in her body any more. She is finally strong enough from all the chemo and the drugs and the radiation to go on a road trip with me.

I've been planning this for a long time now. I want everything to be perfect for her.

She is my momma and she's done for me for a long time. I figure it is my turn.

She's never been to Graceland.

I've rented a big luxury car that we can cruise down the highway in. I've got all the hotels booked so we don't have to make a rush of things. We'll take a slow easy trip from California to the home of The King.

I've heard that I shouldn't expect too much. It is a small house by today's standards and dated. That's fine by me.

When my momma was at the height of her treatments she asked me to go. I'm pretty sure she didn't think she would make it at that point. Being sick from medicine has to be more discouraging than being sick from simply being sick. When poison is the cure, things have to take on a bleak shade of green in your mind. When her long blond hair fell out, she cried- though not as hard as she did when her eyebrows and eyelashes fell out.

I bought her a big blond wig and a ton of silk scarves. I tried to get every color of the rainbow for her so she would never have to worry about finding one that matches. When she lost 40 pounds from the treatments, I got her that little red dress she'd been wanting but couldn't fit into.

She's so happy now that even though her hair hasn't grown back and she could stand to put on 20 pounds that her smile can light up any room. I want to take her to do the things that she never thought about or put off. The things she told me to do for her when she was in the deepest, darkest pit during the worst of it.

Now, we're going to go cruising. She'll put on her big blond wig and her little red dress, some fake eyelashes and fire engine red lipstick and we'll cruise across the country to find Graceland.