Take me Back

chevy 1950

Take me back to growing up on the farm

Where chores were part of daily life and freedom to roam and play was the norm.

When Sunday School was never missed and going to school was an adventure.

When junior high awkwardness and “fitting in” was everything, and high school  cockiness, maturity and confidence followed.

Let me return to my college dorm, my first taste of freedom, where the biggest worries were matching bedspreads and cramming for exams, or whether I had enough cash for chili and grilled cheese at the Union.

Take me back to my wedding day, where after 4 long years we could finally be together,  to the early years  where grocery bills were twenty dollars a week, and friends came to visit with cheap wine and folding chairs.

Take me back to my first job which became a thirty-four year career and where (almost) every moment was enjoyable and fulfilling.

Take me back to my first pregnancy, followed by a lost little one, followed by two more ending happily. Let me return to watch them grow. Feeling joyful, fearful, guilty, unsure about parenting, realizing my attempts were well-meaning but not perfect.

Take me back to those simpler times

Times which rushed by too quickly

let me return to  knowing that I need to enjoy each simple moment as it happens.

Take me back.

 

Three Thoughts

In a very late response to the challenge posed by Margo at https://theothersideof55.wordpress.com/ I’m posting my answers (three for each question) to this meme:

Three names I answer to:

  1. Ruth
  2. Grandma
  3. Mrs. Crates

Three places I’ve called home:

  1. Vanlue Ohio
  2. Forest Ohio
  3. Kenton Ohio (all 3 places within a 40 mile radius)

Three places I’ve worked:

  1. growing up on our family farm
  2. Kenton City Schools
  3. Crates Excavating (our family business)

Three things I love to watch:

  1. My granddaughters and grandson
  2. the view from my kitchen window
  3. my friends spending time with me

Three things I love to eat:

  1. Pizza
  2. Hot soup on a cold day
  3. Bread

Three things I’m looking forward to:

  1. Trip to visit my youngest child
  2. Granddaughter’s graduation
  3. every day

 

Three fond memories:

  1. my mother cooking for holiday meals
  2. meeting my husband
  3. births of my children and grandchildren

Three bloggers I follow who might like to play along too:

  1. Marilyn at https://babyjill7.wordpress.com/
  2. ksbeth at https://ididnthavemyglasseson.com/
  3. https://grandmalin.wordpress.com/ at breathing space

The Easter Dress

 

 

 

In the early 1960’s, when I hit the preteen years, Easter became about fashion.  For weeks before Easter, I would search through the Sears and Roebuck catalog to look at the latest fashions.  There was a children’s section and those pages became well worn and dogeared.  I seldom got the dress that I really wanted because I seemed to develop expensive tastes in clothing at that age and we were not an expensive family.  My mother always looked for bargains and clearance items (although they were not called that back then).  One year I gazed longingly at a lovely gauzy dress featured in the catalog. It was satiny with cap sleeves.  But the skirt… oh! the skirt was colored like a rainbow with wide panels of gauzy material overlayed in lovely pastels of pink, orange, turquoise, and yellow.  It screamed Easter Sunday every time I looked at it. 

I didn’t get the dress, no matter how much I pleaded and begged.  But I did get a nice little yellow cotton dress with eyelet cutouts around the neckline.  Suitable for wearing to school after Easter was over, which the gauzy dream dress was not.  I was disappointed but as my mother always said,  “Beggars cant be choosers.” 

Imagine my surprise when on Easter Sunday, one of the girls in my Sunday school class arrived in the dream dress.  It was just as beautiful as I imagined it would be and I was jealous.  I sat next to her and smoothed out my cotton dress with last years gloves, and pulled up my old Sunday school socks (the anklets with lace around the top that you folded over) noticing that this girl with the dream dress was wearing nylon hose!  I hadn’t even considered nylon hose.  I knew what my mother would say about that.  Besides, what good were nylon hose if you weren’t allowed to shave your legs yet? Nylon hose just smashed  down all the hair on your legs and looked weird. 

As Sunday School class began, another girl entered the room and I couldn’t believe my eyes.  She, too, was wearing the dream dress.  My eyes grew big, because even at the ripe old age of 11, I knew that wearing the same dress as someone else was just…..the end.  The two girls looked at each other and glared.  My eyes grew big as I waited to see what would happen. 

Well, nothing much happened at all.  After all,  it was Sunday School and we were on our best behavior.  There was more glaring between the two girls.  The girl who arrived second found a seat in class at the far end of the room as far from the other girl as she could.  

And I sat there very lady-like, smoothing out my  one-of-a-kind yellow cotton dress with last year’s gloves. And maybe I had just the hint of a smirk on my face.

easter dresses

Pride

Sweat saturated my lashes.  I blinked away salty tears,  but still couldn’t see. Stumbling toward the spindly tree, I fell forward , caught myself before hitting the sizzling pavement, and landed on the scorched, crunchy grass.

“Is this what you are searching for?”

A tall, cool shape in flowing robes held out a clear glass dripping full of ice above my head.  I reached out, collided with the arm, and the liquid disappeared into the grass.

My voice failed.  I nodded.

‘You are too careless. Not deserving.”

I rose and found the energy to shout, ‘Ma’am, I am a garbage collector!”

 

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photo credit Emmy L Gant

Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle can be found at this link.

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2016/03/09/11-march-2016/

I’ll try Anything

When Ruth turned sixty-five, she noticed some subtle changes.  Time got away from her, energy levels dropped, and her memory wasn’t sharp.  She knew it was part of the aging process, but she didn’t like it.

She tried herbal remedies and vitamins. She sent for all the latest treatments advertised on TV to fight the problem.  She ate healthy foods, lost some weight, exercised several times a week, but there was little change.

As a last ditch effort, she decided to try the latest Facebook craze.  They were a little hard to swallow but at last she thought she felt more energetic.

 

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Sean Fallon (photo credit)

Read more stories about this photo prompt at this link
https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2016/03/02/4-march-2016/

One More Time

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photo credit: Al Forbes

The line of traffic waiting for the ferry was  long. Glenn squirmed in his seat and leaned out the window, trying to see if anything was moving ahead. The sky was blue and the air was fresh, but all he could smell was exhaust fumes.

He looked across the seat at his wife, Marjorie, asleep with her head thrown back against the headrest.  She was still the prettiest girl he knew, even after 60 years of marriage.  She sensed his watchful gaze and smiled that smile.  The one he had fallen for.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I’ll make it….one last time.”

 

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This week’s story for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wysoff-Fields.  Read more stories about the photo prompt here:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2016/02/24/26-february-2016/

 

Frog Ditch

She was named Lillie, but everyone called her Lil.  Her bright blond hair and sharp blue eyes caught your attention as soon as you met.  She was feisty and fierce and a little bit mouthy, but I loved her for it.  She would say the things I wanted to say, but couldn’t.

On the day she disappeared, I didn’t think much of it.  She probably took off and didn’t tell anyone.  That’s just the way she was.  

So when they found her floating face down in Frog Ditch, I fell apart.  She was too tough to die. 

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photo credit: Erin Leary

Thanks to Rochelle and to Erin Leary for the photo. Read more stories at Friday Fictioneers. Here’s the link:

https://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com