When I am old
I shall . . .
Wait, who are we kidding here?
I wear purple now and I am NOT old
Why are you laughing?
STOP IT!
Only my hairdresser knows for sure
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This second entry for Trifextra’s challenge is a take on When I am an Old Woman
Madame DeFarge
knit away
lives of all those slain
she smiled while knitting
that devious dame
with glee and little shame
a nefarious time
1775
Today much the same
Who’s knitting our lives?
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Oh, those Trifextra Trixters . . . the challenge? Re-write a famous story in our own words – in exactly 33 of those words. Oh, my!
You may ask – why Tale of Two Cities – a young friend of mine is reading it with her sophomore class at Kenai Central HS. She is having a tough time of it, as are her friends. My encouragment to continue reading, to read it aloud, to compare the times, seems to be falling on deaf (aka teenaged) ears.
I need to re-read it. It’s been well over 40 years . . . but I remember Madame DeFarge and her knitting . . . and I compare her devilish glee with today’s politicos. Someone knitting away while we languish/die? Yeah, maybe.
And – it took over 100 words to explain my 33 word piece. Yeesh!
I know I talk often about what a beautiful place Alaska is and I post pictures of the gorgeous snow. Well, here’s what happens when we have bouts of freeze-thaw-freeze-thaw-snow-rain-thaw . . .
click for larger view
found this on fb – from Linsie Hansen Butikofer’s Photos – no, I don’t know her, but I love this. And, as she says — yes we know Sarah Palin didn’t say that, but saying SNL blah, blah, blah would have been too cumbersome.
🙂 Enjoy
But, with each freeze-thaw episode we have I remember we are one day closer to spring. I love spring. Bring it on, Alaska. Thanks for the extra daylight minutes . . . I love those a lot, too.
btw – Moose Browse (books I’ve read this year) and Crafty Moose (knitting projects completed this year) pages have been updated . . . in case you’re interested.
🙂
They drove down dark streets, cutting into alleys at the first sight of approaching headlights.
The woman huddled in the corner, ducking low enough she couldn’t be seen by anyone not looking directly into the window.
“Not much further,†the driver assured her.
She looked into the back seat at her sleeping children. “Just please hurry,†she whimpered. “He’ll be home soon and when he finds out I’m gone, I know he’ll come looking for us.â€
The driver nodded in reassurance. “I know it’s hard for you to believe now, but things are going to work out. We have people who will help you. You are very brave.â€
“I don’t feel brave,†the other woman sniffled into her coat. “I just want my girls to grow up happy, without being afraid all the time.â€
The driver slid a box of tissues over. She always kept tissues for the women, stuffed animals for the children, and a bag of snacks for both. Trips like these were mostly made in the wee hours of the morning, and the people she transported to the Safe House were often distraught, frightened and hungry.
Her boundaries were simple: no names. She never gave her own, nor asked for the names of those she drove. Her part in the drama ended when she pulled through the wrought iron gates and someone took her charges from her car.
Confidentiality was key – safety paramount. Domestic violence was rampant in her community and she was but a cog in the wheel of its antithesis.
“Here we are,†she said as she turned the last corner. “Someone will come to take you into the house. Be well.â€
The woman touched her children gently to wake them, and then turned to go into the house. Her scarf slid down and the driver winced as she pulled it back up to cover her ravaged face.
The driver grabbed for the tissues as she pulled away. This was right. This was good. She had helped.
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The editors at Trifecta have challenged us again with the word SAFE. The above are 333 of my words on the subject.
Every 9 seconds a woman is abused by her intimate partner.
Do you know someone who is being abused? Are you someone who has suffered abuse? There is help. YOU can help.
Anonymous and
Confidential Help 24/7:
1.800.799.SAFE (7233)
1.800.787.3224 (TTY)
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written for and in memory of my Mom and the thousands of women like her.
The newspaper rattled as he glanced across the table at her. It was their weekend habit – sharing breakfast, but the Saturday crossword had cut out conversation more than once.
Harold looked up again. He caught the attention of the waitress and gestured toward his cup. Leaning back into the booth he stirred enough cream to drown a hog (according to Babs) into the thick, black brew.
His buddies teased him about the odd breakfast routine, but Harold knew Babs still cared about him. She occasionally read bits of the news to him and they would laugh together at their favorite comic strips.
The crossword puzzles didn’t take long to finish and Babs remarked, as she always did. “I should time myself someday.â€
Affection comes in all shapes and sizes as well as interests and joys. At 16 they chattered like magpies, wondering at the “older†people around them who sat silently over their meals. “We will not be like that when we’re old,†they had promised themselves more than once.
Then the babies came and talk was centered on their needs and bills and babysitters and cars and the detritus of struggling young marrieds. Date nights were hard to come by, but always appreciated.
Now, after 43 years of Saturday puzzles, Harold had to admit he was content. He reached across the table, took the crossword and noted how Babs’ handwriting was getting shakier and the words were mostly gibberish with her advancing dementia. “You’ve gotten them all right again, Babs. Ready to go shopping now?â€
Harold helped her into her coat, nodded to the waitress, and smiled at the young couple in the next booth. He wished for them the same longevity he and Babs had shared.
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Ahhh, those crafty editors at Trifecta challenged us to write a love story without using ONE of 33 forbidden words. I chose to write a different sort of love story, one that has weathered time. Let me know if I snuck one of the forbidden words in there.
🙂
