Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Don’t Look Back (04/19/12)
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TITLE: Almost a Century | Previous Challenge Entry
By Leola Ogle
04/24/12 -
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ADD TO MY FAVORITES
Festivities in her honor, ninety-eight, almost a century
Cake, ice cream, flowers, balloons, banners, gifts, hugs, kisses
Unnecessary she thinks, except the hugs and kisses…like a soft, cool breeze on a hot day
That nourishes the soul and warms the heart
She sighs, smiles at her oldest daughter, the take-charge one
Oh, Debbie, Debbie, you’ve never learned to relax, always bossing
Be more like Cindy, your daughter, beautiful granddaughter
Cindy, so gentle and compassionate, visiting each week in the home
Not my home, the home, Mary calls it
Debbie says “Mama, quit looking back so much, stop dwelling on the past”
Why? Mary wonders…memories are all she has - husband, two daughters, family, friends gone
Debbie says it often, “Live for today” - like a dull mantra, a broken record
Ah, record albums of Mary and her four daughters singing gospel so many years ago
Gathering dust on a shelf in her tiny room, from a by-gone era no one seems to care about
“Can I play these sometime?” Mary asked, arriving at the home years ago
“Honey, no one has a phonograph anymore,” the nurse pats her shoulder, dismissing the request
Only Cindy seems to care, “Tell me about them, Grandma” lovingly running her fingers
Over the album cover – grandma, grandpa, mom and three aunts
Bouffant hairdos, long wild print dresses, smiling, holding guitars, accordion
Songs from another era, songs sung at revivals lasting days, weeks
And God showed up in marvelous, unconventional ways
Some called them hick, hillbilly, holy-roller, fanatic
Remembering those days in Pentecostal movements, Mary hums and taps a foot
Cindy understands the glow in her grandma’s eyes
Thin, blue veined fingers brushing at tears fluttering on naked lashes
Frail, trembling hands lovingly touching each face before lingering over Fred’s face
She closes her eyes, songs playing in her ears, hands and fingers on an invisible accordion
Debbie, Marcy, Judy, Betty – voices harmonizing, guitars twanging, sweet Fred playing the piano
Judy and Marcy gone, her beautiful daughters, Fred gone, oh, how she misses them
“Don’t look back, Mama! It makes you cry.” Debbie says, bossy and unsympathetic, meaning well
Ninety eight, almost a century, memories like an ache in her bosom that visits in night stillness
Mary opens her gifts, graciously thanking each giver
They love her, she’s loved, she knows that and it warms her cold, fragile bones
“Now my gift, Grandma,” Cindy whispers, lips tenderly kissing each cheek
She lifts it, grinning, proud of her find, days spent searching for the grandma she loves
“A phonograph to play your albums. And I copied and framed the album covers for your walls.”
Gently, Cindy slides a black orb from its thin cardboard holder, laying it on the turntable
Turning knob to 33 1/3 rpm, lifting arm, gently placing needle on the just the right groove
It was bliss, beautiful to Mary’s ears, eyes closed, picturing her beloved Fred, Marcy, Judy
Longing for the day she’d join them in heaven, sad to leave the others behind
Almost a century is long enough
*Fiction based on memories
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Very well done!
Contratulations on HC.