Friday, April 16, 2010

BUT THAT WAS EONS AGO.

Saturday morning is here.Its about five. I let "I" out and the cool air welcomed me. But it doesn't seem to be raining . So maybe the garage sales are still on. I need more junk you know. I may still have one square inch with nothing on it.

Eons ago, in a land far away was a place called Ninth Street. I have talked about ninth street before. In that land lived a family called the "Munch's". There was a mother, Father, three sisters and a brother. Just an average family. They were poor but the story goes they were a fairly happy bunch. The oldest sister, hmmm, let us call her Geri. She seemed to think the middle child, we'll call her Billye was a a brat. Now the truth of the matter she probably was a brat. She was the baby of the family until the little sister called Brenda came along. Billie in turn thought the sister Geri was mean to her. Now whether she was or not, depends on whose memories you are believing. I am telling this from the point of view of Billye, take the truth as you see it. It matters not. But you are about to hear about, "The bobby pin episode". So you'll just have to bear with me, Okay?

Geri was about twenty, Billie fifteen. Back in the olden days they had what we call bobby pins on which they rolled their hair. No heat rollers, no blow dryers, no curling irons. I told you it was Eons ago. The sad fact is they only had one set of bobby pins. Not enough for both girls to roll their hair at once. The younger of the two girls was home all evening. She wanted to roll her hair but she just kept waiting. I am not totally sure why. She was rather a strange girl. Or so I hear from others.

Geri came home from a date. Ready to roll her hair. Billye makes a sprint, grabs the pins and starts rolling her hair. Geri makes a grab to yank them out of her hand. "No," she yelled. "I have to work tomorrow, I need them." Billye yanks them back, "No I need them." She wouldn't let go. By this time the silly girls were on the front porch, hollering at each other. The door to their Fathers bedroom open for the cool evening breezes, no AC Eons ago you see. This went on for a time. Their Father hit the floor. "Shut up girls," he demanded, " I'm trying to sleep." He worked very long hours you know. Geri and Billye looked at each other. They had woke Father. Oops, he was not happy. They grabbed each others hands and started running, up Ninth, turning on Pennsylvania, over to eight. The school, there was the school. Good ole East Central, they were saved. Laughing very hard by now they run up the steps, and tucked themselves into the dark recess's of the front entrance.

Their they waited, each laughing softly. Then they heard it, the soft putt, putt of the old Studebaker. They knew she would come looking for them. "Mother," she would always come. Even if they were silly and old enough to know better. She would always come. They could hear her softly calling their names out the car window. They stood very still, finally they heard her putt, putt away.

They grabbed each others hands again, running down the stairs, headed back to the old house on ninth street. Once there they sat on the steps and divided the pins, happy as could be. Never thinking how their Mother, who probably got yelled at for taking the car out that late at night. Or how their poor Father who worked twelve hours a day probably couldn't get back to sleep. No, they never thought of this at all. I think of those girls from time to time. Of that old car and the Mother circling the neighborhood. Softly calling their names. But of course that was another land, another time. But oh I remember it still. Even if it was Eons ago. On the stillness of some evenings I listen, standing very still. Hoping to hear her voice that was spoken on that night so many years ago.

I listen but of course I cannot hear. But I wonder sometimes if somewhere is a capsule with all the prayers and soft words spoken by Mothers locked away somewhere. Still echoing if you could only listen hard enough. So that is my story. I will leave Blog land for now. I hope all is well in your land. But for me, I'm outta here.

No comments:

Post a Comment