The next spring a wind storm came down across the hill, passed between the big rocks in Snookie's yard and blew away their outdoor toilet. It cut a path through Maw's back yard and headed straight for her apple tree.
The next morning Snookie and I stood in her backyard looking at the tree laying there, it's roots reaching up toward the sky like clawing fingers. And you know what? We were glad!
My grandmaw had a big apple tree growing in her back yard. Every summmer it was loaded down with crunchy red apples. But Maw was stingy with her apples. Considering the number of grandchildren she had living around her, if she had given us free access to the tree it would have been stripped in two or three days. But we weren't old enough to care about that. We just thought she was stingy.
One day my cousin, Snookie and I begged and begged until Maw finally said, "You can pick one apple apiece, no more than that and don't break any branches while you are about it. I'm saving them apples to dry."
Snookie and I went up that apple tree like two monkeys, eyeing every apple, trying to find the biggest one with no specks, worm holes or bird pecks.
As she sails across the waves she looks like a dainty butterfly, wings folded, sipping from a sea of nectar.
When I turn into the wind, the jib flaps and flails itself until I pull it to the other side and it fills again, with the gusty,salty air.
As I turn to go downwind, she is like a bird with wings outstretched to dry, skimming over silver flakes of reflected light.
The only sounds are the creaking of halyards. the silky swish of the water, the sea gulls cry and the music I play, spreading its notes back behind me over the white-capped, sunlit sea.
I like to sail on a slant until the boat's edge is in the water, the mast leaning, horizontal with the sea. Everything down below goes crashing to the other side. Sometimes I scare myself.
Looking up to check the wind-vane, I see a toy jet drawing a line across the sky. People being carried along by noisy, powerful engines. As two leaping grey dolphins pop up beside the boat, clearing their airholes, I do not envy the jetting people.
She lies, angrily, at the dock waiting for me. She was not meant to be tied, bow and stern like a prisoner, while seagulls sit on her shrouds and taunt her, the rude waves slap her about and barnacles chew her bottom.
I throw off the coverings, like blankets on a horse. As I leave the dock, her mooring lines look like a broken spider web which a captured fly has escaped.
Carefully I guide her out, past the pilings and rocks. In open water I point her sharp, white nose into the wind and dress her. I raise a white, crackly triangle up the mast. I unfurl the sunset colored jib. She hesitates. Her sails catch the wind. She shudders all over, like a horse getting rid of flies. She heels a little to one side, then she is moving.
The waves curl from her bow like ruffles. The sound she makes as she moves through the water is like the sound of someone brushing silk.
Daddy took us to the fair and when he gave us our fifty cents, we didn't beg for any more. But once through the gate we lost Snookie. But I didn't care. Somehow it just didn't seem much fun anymore. The music didn't sound as pretty as I had imagined or the lights as bright.
I got in line to the spook house, but the closer I got to the entrance the more I decided I didn't want to see the spooks and maybe even the devil that day. Just as I was about to enter, I turned and ran back down the wooden walkway.
As the Ferris wheel went round and round high into the sky overlooking all the other rides and the shouting, laughing people, the workers selling popcorn and cotton candy, the thought of what we had done went round and round in my head
I was glad when Daddy came and got us.
A few days later Evelyn asked Loretta and me about the money and we told her that we had been at her house that day, that we didn't go in but Snookie did. Now we were liars too. Since that day I have never stolen anything else and my sister, Loretta says she hasn't either, but I have known her to lie.
" I know where she keeps some silver dollars hidden."he said.
My sister and I sat there looking at him. He stood with his head down, his hands in his overall pockets, scuffing the ground with his bare foot.
" Well, she would have paid us," we agreed, " If she had been here."
So we went to the back of Evelyn's house and raised a window. Snookie soon had the three silver dollars in his pocket. Outside,again we talked some more.
Loretta, who was two years older said, "I think we should put them back. I think she will get mad."
A vision of that street fair came into my head, the many colored flashing lights, the Ferris wheel turning, the merry-go -round with it's pretty brightly painted horses, like the horse the prince rode when he carried Cinderella to his castle. The booths where you threw nickels and won pretty dishes to take home to your mama. The music was in my ears, the music that we could hear from across town, all the way to our house. My daddy said the music was saying, "Toot! Toot! bring me your nickels and your dimes.
" Oh no" I pleaded, " Let's do something else for her and she won't get mad."
So we gathered up some rocks and made a circle around one of her flower beds. Surely she would be so pleased, she couldn't get mad.
One day my sister, Loretta, my cousin, Snookie and I were playing around my Aunt Evelyn's house when we noticed her baby calf come into the yard. We went banging on her door yelling, "Evelyn, Evelyn, your calf is out of the pasture." But she wasn't home. We got sticks and ran the calf back into the pasture to it's mama. We were very proud of ourselves and talked about how happy our aunt would be that we had saved her calf.
"She might even pay us," Snookie said. And then we became really excited.
The street fair had come to town. It came every summer during the hot, dragging days of July and caused a lot of excitement among all the children. Everybody wanted to go. Daddy had promised to take us and if Evelyn gave us some money, maybe we could ride every ride.
" But what if she doesn't come back in time?' I asked and our happy smiles went away.
And then that old demon who sits and listens to little children's conversations crept into my cousin's heart.
A certain smile,
A certain face,
Can lead an unsuspecting heart on a merry chase.
A fleeting glance
Can say so many lovely things.
Suddenly you know why my heart sings.
You'll love awhile
And when love goes,
You try to hide the tears inside with a cheerful pose.
But in the hush of night exactly like a bittersweet refrain,
Comes that certain smile
To haunt your heart again.
Sung by Johnny Mathis,
Dedicated to Patrolman Anthony John Scozzaro
April 15th, 1939- December 13, 1961
Then Fred ran past me down to the water, jumping and yelling and running in and out with the waves, getting his britches legs wet. I hiked my coat and skirt up as high as I could and ran down and joined him. The water was cold, but we didn't care. We danced and played along the ocean's edge in the moonlight until our clothes we wet almost to our waists. My uncle had a light and he showed us the little sand crabs running along, sideways, down the beach. The whole family joined us in chasing them.
Soon Mama said we needed to go to bed so I reluctantly left the beach, my coat and skirt sopping wet, the hem of my skirt flapping around my ankles.
That night I slept with Maw on a single bed, her arm around me to keep me from falling off. I lay looking at the moonlight shining in the window of the little cabin and listening to the washing in and out of the waves. I said to myself, " I have seen the ocean." And went to sleep, very satisfied.
When it got good daylight, Daddy pulled over on the side of the road at a picnic table and Mama and Evelyn and Maw cooked breakfast. Mama has a picture of us huddled around the table eating. We all have on coats and Maw has a head rag on her head.
When we got to the prison we went through one set of gates and they locked behind us. We went through another set and they locked too. A guard searched the picnic lunch we had brought to share with Uncle George and took away the knife we brought to cut the ham.
My brother and I didn't care about Uncle George or the picnic so we were glad when at last Maw hugged him goodbye and we were on our way to see the ocean.
When we got to Pensacola it was already dark. Daddy rented a cabin on the beach. When we got out of the car, I was amazed at the sand. I had never seen so much sand in my life, white sand that looked almost like snow. It was deep and filled my shoes until I could hardly walk. I pulled off my shoes and ran up the slight rise and there it was. Spread out before me as far as I could see in any direction was water. Black water topped with white foam. And as the water came up onto the shore there was a loud roaring and when it went back there was a soft tinkling of tumbling seashells. The wind blowing off the water was cold and moist and salty tasting. And hanging right on the horizon was that same silvery moon I had left behind that morning. There was a silver flecked path leading straight from me across the water to the moon. I felt the urge to follow it across that beautiful eternal sea.
I was in the ninth grade before I ever saw the ocean. My daddy had told me about it. He had seen the ocean when he was stationed at Dauphin Island near Mobile, during the war. I wanted very much to see it for myself.
My daddy had a brother in prison near Mobile who had shot and killed a man. He was charged with manslaughter and sentenced to ten years in prison. My grandmaw, although she knew Uncle George had done a terrible thing, never stopped loving her son and went to see him every chance she got.
One day my daddy and my uncle, Lewis decided to take Maw to see Uncle George. "We'll all go, ' Daddy said, "and then drive on to Pensacola and see the ocean. I was wild with excitement. I was going to see the ocean.
The night before we were going to leave, my brother, Fred and I couldn't sleep. After Mama and Daddy had gone to bed , we sneaked up and ran the clock ahead two hours. So the next morning when the alarm went off at six it was really only four and still dark. I remember how the sky looked that morning. It wasn't black but a deep, deep velvety blue and right on the horizon hung a perfectly round big pearl colored ball, the most beautiful full moon I had ever seen.
We loaded the car and drove next door to Evelyn and Lewis's house. They couldn't understand why we were so early but good naturedly got ready and soon we were on our way. Daddy's old Ford was jam-packed with my mama and daddy, Evelyn and Lewis, Maw, my brother Fred and me, and enough clothes and food to last two days.
Having fed the chickens, she starts up the porch steps as an old red dog comes slinking out from beneath them, his head hanging down as if he is afraid to look anyone in the face. His tail curls in between his legs and he walks as if he has been crippled at one time. The old lady pats his head and says to him, "You poor cowed down thing. You come right on in the house with me. Come on, it's okay."
Gently she coaxes the old hound up the steps and into the kitchen where a stingy little fire burns in the fireplace grate. That same smile crosses her lips and she heaps the fire high with shiny, black lumps of coal until it is roaring and casting lovely colors and shadows all about the room. The old dog slowly lowers his haunches to the floor and resting his head on his paws, is soon asleep, soaking up the welcoming warmth.
She looks out the window and sees that it has begun to snow. " Oh how I do love snow," she says. She loves to watch it fall and cover the ground, hiding all the ugliness, turning everything into a shimmering fairyland. Her face glows in the light of the fire as she goes and throws the back door open and drags up a straight chair. She sits there for hours, just watching it snow.
" Tomorrow I will go and buy myself a new coat and a pretty pair of slippers."
The defiant little smile is a wide, happy grin now.
Creative Writing
Exercise One Fiction
"Oh, my!" the old lady groans, holding her back. " I feel like I've been drug through hell and beat with a soot bag." She is weary after the events of the last three days. She pauses at the porch steps, turns, and looks out over her back yard. She pulls her thin, worn coat tighter around her as the blustery winter wind whips around the edge of the porch. Some white rose petals blow across the yard, strangely out of place in the dead grass and dirt.
She hears a screeching sound, like an angry voice, and looks toward the old apple tree by the chicken lot. It's crooked branches move restlessly in the wind. One limb is broken and reaches down toward the ground like a cane, as though the tree needs help to stand upright. It's trunk is bent like a humped back, gray and covered with moss. The screeching of the two branches rubbing together continues as if complaining about the cold, the sunless sky and the loss if it's leaves and apples. The old woman shudders and steps upon the porch, her clumsy, old woman shoes thudding heavily on the wooden boards.
The chickens hear the sound and come rushing from the hen house to the fence, squawking for food. She pauses for a moment.
"It's too early to feed them," she thinks and then she says to herself, "I can do as I please." She goes to the shed nearby and dips up a meager pan of cracked corn. Then with a defiant little smile, she dips deep down into the bag and brings up a brimming pan full and leaves a trail of yellow all the way to the lot.
To Where You Are
Who can say for certain? Maybe you're still here.
I feel you all around me, your memory's so clear,
Deep in the stillness, I can hear you speak,
You're still my inspiration, can it be?
That you are mine, forever love? And you are watching over me from up above?
Fly me up to where you are beyond the distant star,
I wish upon tonight to see your smile.
If only for a while to know you're there.
A breath aways not far to where you are.
Are you gently sleeping, here inside my dreams?
And isn't faith believing, all power can't be seen?
As my heart holds you, just one beat away,
I cherish all you gave me, everyday.
Cause you are mine, forever love, watching me from up above.
And I believe that angels breathe and that love will live on and never leave.
Fly me up to where you are above the distant star,
I wish upon to night to see your smile.
If only for a while to know you're there,
A breath aways not far to where you are.
I know you're there. A breath aways not far to where you are.
Song sung by Josh Gorban
Dedicated to Patrolman Anthony John Scozzaro
