A Short History of Kristen Haveman
A girl with many names

The things we tell ourselves when we’re in the comfort of a home. They’re a strange mix of purity and dulled memories.
We’re sitting on a couch or lying in a bed, trapped between four walls, and all we can remember is the fun at the fair we had with our grandma, twenty, forty, or sixty years ago.
Fifty-two years later, I still remember Grandma Kristen. Two words always come to my mind when I think of her, gray and the scar. She was always hiding it behind one of these grandmothers’ veils, a gray one.
“What’s that scarf for, Grandma?” I used to ask.
“It’s not a scarf, honey. It’s a grandmother’s veil. It’s an illusion that keeps me alive, a divide between me and the external world. Behind my veil, I’m not scarred anymore. I can pretend.” I didn’t always understand her words, but she had a tone in her voice that expressed the feeling clearly, even to my five-year-old self.
“Like when I’m scared, and I hide under the blanket with my teddy monkey?”
“Not scared, scarred. But yes, it’s the same. Behind my veil, I live freely, without constraints.”
“But your veil is transparent; you can see through it! I like the darkness under my blanket. I feel safer.”
“I know, honey. But we can’t always live under the blankets, can we? And I want to see you. You’re my favorite grandson. What good would it be to live freely behind my veil if I couldn’t see you?”
“I love you, Grandma.”
“I love you too.”
Each time we had a variation on this conversation, Grandma Kirsten wrote it down on one of her gray stationery sheets. She gave them all to me when I turned eighteen.
She always had the best birthday surprises.
Kristen Haveman, a girl with many names, has a voice. I used titles from her stories to write this piece. Click on the links above to discover them. May the followers and the algorithm always be with you, Kristen!
And if you don’t want to click above, click below. You don’t want to miss these two stories.
