Purple Blues [Elvis]

Epilogue

After Elvis's death in 2010, the mansion he bought for himself and his family in Graceland became a historical landmark, and now, I was finally able to visit it, after wanting to all my life. I looked up at the looming pillars in the front as I stood at the bottom of the steps, and other people around me, other fans, took pictures. According to our guide, the family didn't live in any of the buildings on the property anymore but visited and stayed for a few days now and then.

"Okay, everyone, let's head on in," said our guide, a woman around forty, and a blonde. I noticed a couple of girls with us had purple streaks in their hair. Just another confirmation that I was there in 1956 and started a trend. I still kept up with the purple, and I was even wearing a 50s style purple dress.

We came into the entryway of the mansion and were immediately faced with a white staircase with gold trim on the railing. We came into the living room of white carpet and sofas, and the blue curtains were pulled back to bring in sunlight. Our guide spoke, but I didn't really pay attention until she said, "And as a surprise to you all, we have some of the family here to meet you."

The whole group became an excited chatter, and I couldn't help but ask her, "Who of the family?"

"There are a couple of his grandchildren here, as well as his son Adam. They are currently in the back. We will make our way out there after we tour the rest of the house."

I had seen pictures of his kids and grandkids, and they all looked similar to him. It made sense. I recalled that genes discussion during Thanksgiving, the one between the Presley men. That was only a memory now.

"No tears," I ordered myself. I promised myself I wouldn't cry on this solo trip, a trip that was a present to myself after graduating high school. Grandma really wanted to go, since it was on her bucket list to visit Graceland, but she had to work and take care of Grandpa.

"Okay, now up the stairs we go," said our guide and I watched as everyone, the group of about a dozen, made their way upstairs. I stayed put. Without anyone seeing, I made my way to the back of the mansion, to the large backyard, wanting a sneak peek at the family. I memorized the layout of the house from a blueprint I looked up online. The summer sun shone down on me as I walked out into the middle of the lawn. There was the other house that was built and was about as big as the mansion. Did Elvis's parents live in that until his mom's death? I read online that her death was easier for him because he claimed that he already knew about it... knew about it from me.

"Elvis, I miss you..." The wind blew my wavy hair that was down. I didn't want to cry, but the tears came, stinging my eyes. I whimpered. "I miss you so much..."

I covered my mouth with my hand so anyone around wouldn't notice me out where I wasn't supposed to be.

I suddenly smelled something in the summer breeze, something not natural. It was cologne. My heart sped up in alarm when I heard footsteps behind me. At least one of the family found me, or maybe it was someone from the group who snuck out as well.

"Excuse me, miss."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be out here, I just, um..."

"You can be out here. I don't see any problem with that."

I recognized that voice. I turned around and let out a loud gasp. Standing there was a guy who looked exactly like Elvis, with the dark hair, pompadour and smirk. His attire was modern, though - jeans, a short-sleeve black t-shirt and white Vans sneakers. "You're..."

He came up to me, that smirk there. "The name's Dylan Presley, miss."

"Dylan?"

"Yes. I'm a grandson. It's nice to meet, ya. Are you apart of the tour group today?"