Wednesday, March 9, 2011
maybe the beginning of something
Summer was so named because of the character of the day on which she was born. It was a glorious summer day. The kind of day you'd swear had sweet smelling air, if only because the joy that suffuses beautiful summer days is so sweet. The wind was blowing that day, blowing hard enough that it whipped through the window of the small one room shack and snatched the blanket that little ruth was holding up right out of her hands. She made to chase it, clearly stressed that the one small thing she'd been give to do to help out with the birth of her sister had proven too much for her to handle. Mama, sweat stained from brow to bosom, hollered through her clenched teeth that Ruthie could leave it, because if she was stressing about one daughter breaking a leg while bringing another into the world, lord knows the baby would be born a worry wart. Mama, on her back about to give birth and still ordering people to and fro. I know papa was only too happy to let her to it, him wringing his hands anxiously just outside the door, every now and again calling inside, asking 'anyfin i can help ya'll with?' the whole time praying there was no need for him. It was always curious to me, how papa could slaughter pigs, deer, and chickens and not bat an eyelash, but would faint dead away at just the mention of childbirth. And not just that. I remember one time bobby was climbin that dead magnolia tree in the back, he only was climbin it on account of mama and papa were at a weddin that day, they'd beat him silly just for lookin at it like-un he was fittin to climb. anyways, he climbed up too high, stepped on a branch that'd swayed just a time too many, and it snapped right under his foot. he fell a good 12 or 14 feet, and would you know that very branch that broke under his foot stabbed him right through his leg, as if the tree wanted to get his revenge for having his branch broke. It musta stuck up an outta him a good 3 or 4 inches. Boy, to look at daddy that night you'd a thought bobby'd grown a third leg, not stabbed one of em. You could tell daddy was tryin real hard to be daddy-like, tryin to fuss bobby out for 'climbin that durn tree,' but the whole while he was lookin at everthin else but bobby, so it looked like he was fussin at ruth, me, and mama out for climbin the tree.