Kindness

Lou and Lynn Part 10 Aunt Kat’s Comforting Visit: A Bedtime Story

The girls headed back to the bedroom. Lynn’s mom sat down and patted the bed beside her. Lou sat next to her. Lynn sat on the other side of Lou holding Lynn’s hand. Lynn’s mom put her arm around Lynn. “First of all, let’s get comfortable. My name is Kathy. My nickname is Kat. Would you like to call me Aunt Kat? That seems a lot closer than Miss Kat. I think we’re gonna feel like family before we get you home. We will get this figured out, somehow. It’s really confusing now but I can tell you and your grandma love each other a lot. She’s not the kind of person to forget about someone she loves. You can bet on that.
That sheriff is not taking you anywhere. You’re staying right here with us. How else would your grandma find you? Now don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you just like you were my own. Lynn, get Lou one of your nightgowns. There’s plenty of room for both of you in Lynn’s big bed. See this pretty quilt on the bed. My grandma made it for my wedding present. You two girls can play till bedtime. You are guaranteed to sleep sweetly under it. I’ll be back to tuck you in.”

Lou felt so much better. Lynn spread out her Chinese Checker set out on the floor. In a few minutes they were giggling. I’ve never seen this game.” said Lou. “It’s a lot of fun! I usually just play on my IPad.”

“Oh, I don’t have to play this on a special pad. Me and Billy usually just sit on the floor. Mother doesn’t want us to play on the bed.” Lynn explained.

Lou laughed, “An IPad is an electronic tablet that has lots of games on it. I play with mine all the time. Do you have a tablet?”

“Sure, I have tablets but I have to save them for school. I save my old papers to draw pictures on and play tic tac toe and hangman. Do you like to draw pictures?” Lynn asked.

“Yeah. What do you draw?” Lou asked. “I like to do monsters and robots. Sometimes I do really good robots crashing down buildings and bridges.” said Lou.

“ I do really good horses and mountains. Sometimes I do cowboys camping or wagon trains. Do you want to have a contest? That would be fun!” Lynn jumped up and got some paper and pencils. They lay on the floor and sketched. Then Lynn’s mother came in with a plate of peanut butter sandwiches. She also brought cups of cocoa.

“Thanks, Mother.” Said Lynn.

“Yes, thanks, Aunt Kat” repeated Lou.

“You girls didn’t eat much supper, so I brought you a snack. What’s this?” she asked, looking at their pictures. These are really good!

“We’re having a drawing contest! Who wins?” asled Lynn.

“Don’t make me choose.” she said. “You are both really good. Lou, I believe I saw a little smile. Are you feeling better?”

“Yes, “she smiled. “I am. I know Grandma will be back for me.”

“There you go. I’m sure she will. Now, clean up and go to bed. Don’t talk too long. We have a busy day tomorrow.” She kissed them both and tucked them in.

“Mother, you always say that.” giggled Lynn.

“That’s because tomorrow is always a busy day. Good night, girls.” she closed the door quickly.

“Your mom is nice.“ said Lou.

“Yeah, she is.” said Lynn.

“But your dad’s a little scary.” Lynn told her.

“Yep.” said Lynn.

Charley’s Tale Introduction

This is the first episode in a serial I posted several years ago. I am dusting it off, Charley tugs at my heart, reminding me,”Don’t shut me out! I have a story to tell.”

The outsider looking in could have been forgiven for assuming Charley was born to a life of ease. Unfortunately, things don’t always work out that simply. True, she was the much-hoped for daughter born to a prominent couple, her father a doctor and mother a wealthy socialite. She knew the joy of two adoring older brothers, an admiring little sister, a doting grandmother, and a cousin who left her a valuable estate.
Given that mix, the fates dusted in a bit of trouble to complicate the life to which she was destined. At birth, the father who delivered her, noted an oversized clitoris which he snipped before presenting her to her mother, thinking he’d spared her a life of confusion. Unfortunately, it had just the opposite result. Gender identification goes a lot deeper than outward appearances, as he learned over time.

Not only that, Ellen, Charley’s narcissistic mother was repulsed by her perceived imperfection of her child. Ellen and Charley never bonded due to her mother’s rejection. Little Charley was cherished by the rest of the family and nurtured by Cora, the family’s maid. Her grandmother and Cousin Jean adored her. Early on Grandmother Geneva and Cousin Jean recognized the child’s nature and allowed her the freedom to express it.

Charley’s nebulous connection to her mother was severed on the occasion of her baby sister’s birth. Ellen developed post-partum psychosis, attempted murder, and lived out the short period of her remaining life in a state hospital. Unresolved psychic trauma was to follow Charley from that point on.

Life has never been easy for an intersexed child. It was likely for a well-meaning surgeon to assign the child a female identity, if anything at all was done. Unfortunately, this was as apt as not to be wrong. So it was for Charley. The child who would have been celebrated as a robust little boy was expected to behave as a dainty little girl. The confusion was overwhelming. From the time Charley’s mother went into the asylum, Cora and Grandmother Geneva assumed maternal roles with both girls. Geneva and the children passed the long summer weeks at the farm and the lake house where Geneva encouraged Charley’s relationship with the Washington family who maintained the farm, knowing they’d likely be in her life for years. They were good people.

Josie, the girl who’d helped cared for the girls since Ginny’s birth had married Bobby Washington who’d grown up working the farm along with his father Robert. Since the dairy barn was no longer in use, Geneva gave Robert permission to tear it down and salvage the materials to build a cabin for the newlyweds on the land Cousin Jean left him. They worked evenings till a tin-roofed three-room shotgun house stood proudly under a pecan tree with the requisite toilet about one hundred feet down the hill. It was close enough Bobby and Josie could share the older folk’s well. It was a fine thing for a young couple to start out with a house on eighty acres they could look forward to inheriting one day.

Life was a succession of peaceful days till school attendance required Charleys to spend her days at her father’s house. Cora was devoted to both girls, spending a great deal of time with them, serving as a buffer to Ellen. Geneva lived just a few blocks over, so they frequented her home as well. Charley enjoyed several years of relative peace till she reached the age of cruelty.

Andrew and Molly Part 8

img_1779While Wharton had other matters to attend, Andrew and Bartles worked for hours that afternoon sawing trees with a cross-cut saw, chopping off branches with an ax, then piling the brush for later burning.  Andrew’s back ached and the muscles of his arms screamed.  At the end of the day, they were rewarded with a half-dozen stumps, a huge pile of brush, and a stack of logs.  The timber would be transported to a nearby sawmill for processing into lumber.  Wharton told Andrew he could take what he needed to fashion a room in the barn.  The remainder would be used on the place or sold in the colonies or shipped back to England.  Timber was one of the most important crops shipped back to England since her forests had been stripped.  Ship-building, an important trade, was always hungry for lumber. During a brief break, Bartles told him they usually worked the crops in the early morning, then split the afternoon between lumbering and blacksmithing as the need and weather permitted.  Blacksmithing was illegal in the colonies, but since their product was not great enough to impact the demand from England, they’d not had a problem yet.

Aggie sent Molly out with a pewter pitcher of beer and the men paused for a short break.  Battles spoke to the two of them.  When she turned to leave them, Bartles bade her stay. ” I came here as a bondsman almost four years ago.  I’d done blacksmithing on an estate in England.  Like you, my master died and I had to move on.  We’d have starved if we hadn’t bonded. It was a devilish passage we made, more than twelve weeks.  That’s when we met Master Wharton, but he warn’t no master then.  He was a sailor what broke his leg two days out and couldn’t work.  We took care of him or he’d have never lived.  When we got here, ship’s captain bound him over for lost work owed.  We was all bound to Mistress Ipswich when we landed, the woman that owned this farm. She was a hard, God-fearing woman, the meanest Christian I ever knew.  She took a fancy to Master Wharton not long after.  Once she was set on marrying him, he had no choice.  She meant to have him, one way or another.  He give up and married her after awhile, even though he didn’t have no fondness for her.  It was a hard bargain with never a minutes’ peace.  After a year or so, she fell out with a fit and died three days later.  He was Master after that.  When he found out I could smith, he got me a forge and helped me get a start.  I get to keep half I make.  He don’t have to let me keep nothing.  My time will be up in a few months and I’d be proud to teach you.  I’m telling you this so you’ll know you’ve got a chance.  Didn’t me nor Wharton have nothing when he got here.  Now he’s got a fine farm and soon, me and Aggie will be worked our time out an able to make a living.  Do right by Wharton and he’ll do right by you.  He don’t need to know we talked.  Lots of bondsman die before they finish their time, but you got a good place.”

Molly and Andrew were greatly heartened by Bartle’s story.  “I thank you for telling us, Bartles.”  Andrew told him.  “We are grateful.”  Molly flashed him a smile as she turned back to the house with the pitcher.

“I’d best get back in the house before Aggie skins me.”

“That she will,” chuckled Bartles.  “She don’t tolerate no slacking in herself nor nobody else, but she’s a good woman.”

Hard Time Marrying Part 21

Emma tapped on the door, explaining before she even got in. “I can’t stay.  Me and Rufus is on the way to town.  Nellie Mason told me your cow was dry, so I brung you some butter and two gallons of milk for the youguns.  If it turns before they finish it, you might have enough for a churning.  Can I bring you anything from town? ”

“Thank you, but no.  This milk and butter are sure welcome. Are you sure you cain’t set awhile?  I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee with a friend.  It gets mighty quiet with Joe gone all day.”  Anya longed for the comfort of a woman’s company.

“No, Rufus is a’waitin’ in the wagon.  I better get on, but I sure wish you’d ride over with Joe Saturday when he comes to help Rufus fix the windmill.  I could kill a chicken an’ make some dumplings.  We could have some good woman talk.”  Emma’s eyes crinkled.  “Is Joe proud about the baby?”

“Oh, I ain’t told him yet.  I been spottin’ some and I’m afeared I may not carry it.  I don’t want him to worry if they ain’t no need.”  Anya had no idea how that spilled out.

“I’ve sorrowed over that.  I lost two between Martha and Melvin.  I’ll pray for you.”  She gave Anya a warm hug.

Tears sprung to Anya’s eyes at her friend’s kindness.  “I thank you, Emma.  I’d be proud to see you on Saturday.”

“That will be something to look forward to.  See you then.”  Anya followed Emma into the yard and waved as the Menlo’s wagon rattled off.

 

Cool Water

Half empty

Since I frequently mention Mother in humorous stories, I thought perhaps I should tell you more of her true nature. She lives in a quiet neighborhood on a corner lot, always busy working in her yard, which over the past thirty years, she has landscaped lovingly. For more years than I can remember, she has kept a cooler of ice water on her back porch, with cups, for any passerby, who needs a drink. She washes and reuses the cups, discouraging waste. Most days, she is on hand to greet the kids when they are getting in from school to ask about their day, encourage them, or just talk. Should she hear unkindness, she reminds them, “You can’t talk like that. How would you feel if someone called you that?” If a child tells her of being bullied, she says, “Tell your parents or teacher. If they don’t help, come back and let me know. We’ll figure something out.” She has become so well-known, that walkers of all ages in her neighborhood stop for a drink, carefully returning their used cups to the bin for rewashing. Many times I’ve seen kids tap on the back door or hunt her up in the yard to let her know she has fallen down on the job by letting the water cooler run dry. So many stop by that she can’t possibly know them all by name, although they certainly know hers.

Mother loves light, so when she isn’t working outdoors, she usually keeps her backdoor open, often privy to interesting exchanges between the kids.  They feel perfectly free to talk in front of her, like she is part of the landscape.  Recently, she passed on this conversation between a couple of boys who were taking a break on her back steps, about ten feet from where she sat.

Jason started out.  “This place is old.”

“Yep.” Amos agreed.

“This house is old.”  Jason offered.

“Yep.”  Amos was the king of “Yep!”

“That truck is old.”

“Yep.”

“Mrs. Swain is old.  Old people are so full of wisdom and uh, uh, uh…..”  Finally Jason was at a loss for words.

“Oldness!”  Quipped Amos.

Over the years, many of her “children” have grown up and moved out of her neighborhood. It is very common for her to be in a restaurant, on a parking lot, or anywhere in town and have a young police officer, store clerk, nurse, or bag boy call out, “Heh, Mrs. Swain, remember me? I used to get water at your house?” What a positive way to see how many lives she has touched over the years.