perils with writing and whatnot
Yesterday afternoon the weather had become that blustery stuff of late autumn. It triggered a scene in my head so I decided to write it out. Tell me what you think – be honest.
The afternoon sky was gray when she looked up into the heavens, but toward the horizon it appeared to be the color of dead dry leaves. As she walked along the highway, the breeze wrapped around her like a blanket that had been left out on the porch during a cold winters night.
Occasionally, there would be the flurry of wind blowing the dead leaves of late autumn to and fro. It whisked her hair across her face making it impossible for her see. She bent her head down looking just at her shoed feet as she trudged on. Her long cotton stockings weren’t much good against the cold and she wished her wool skirt went farther down than her mid-calf. The sweater coat was doing the best it could for her. She remembered the time when her mother made it for her, making sure to put in a silk lining. Thank you, Mom.
The driveway was just a half mile away now. She knew her guess was almost right on the money. The creek ran under the highway a half mile from the next mile marker that stuck out of the ground just feet away from her destination. Now that she was past the water, she hoped the cold wouldn’t be so strong as to go through her so easily.
She had put a gold bow on the white box she carried. The goody inside was something she had never made before. She had decided that she was tired of making the same old thing each year and found the recipe in one of her mother’s cookbooks. She had seen her mother make streusel many times. Even so, the one she concocted for this occasion was made with dates. Would they like it? She worried that they wouldn’t.
She saw the mile marker just ahead of her. The last hill had a steep grade so her steps became shorter and her ankles ached. Almost there, she stumbled. She let go of her box so she could catch herself before she fell face first onto the pavement. She wasn’t able to get the box completely out of the way so one side of it bent and collapsed.
She picked herself up, smoothed out her clothes, and retrieved her box. She didn’t look inside. She felt foolish and worn out. She plodded up the driveway to the porch and rang the doorbell. It only took seconds for someone to open the door and greet her with outstretched arms.
Which one would you say is the grandmother, the one who was walking or the one who opened the door?
Text+Sound by Wayne Mason
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