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
