 |
| The Family Circle Standing at the sink, a frown framed by unruly locks. She stared out the window wishing as she bit her lip Silent grumbles from beneath the stained torn apron. The slender teen washing dishes in a thin cotton slip. Mom the overseer doing laundry on the porch. The well worn clothes hanging on the line to dry. The bright sun in the window sill lit freckles on her nose. The girl only dreamed of playing football with the guys. The sink dilapidated held up on one end by a box. Drawers askew with broken knobs, a door off the hinge. Siblings fighting in the hall running through the kitchen. Mom and kids home alone, dad off on a binge. Sandy colored locks of hair hung on her forehead. Pretty eyes a hazel color dull and seeming lost. Haunched hip and listless scrubbing on a plate. "Why couldn�t I do laundry. But NO, moms the boss". Saturday of all the days why am I cooped up here? Bonnie Jo had come an gone her friend from 1st grade on. They planned to meet later on near some vacant lot. Maybe play some stick ball with kids around her home. The table full of cereal bowls some spilled on the floor. Her pouty lips were sagging as the dishes kept on piling. She glared and fire leapt from her eyes at little Billy watching. Directing all her anger as little brother stood there smiling. Finally the dishes cleaned and a rag on a leaky faucet. The scarred wooden table was void of any dishes. Her knees dirty from the weathered floor stains wet and drying. Bare footed and stubby toed she lost herself in wishes. The smell of cheap perfume brought her back to her senses. An older sister waltzed on by her nose in the air. She�d finagled her way out of chores again, always every year. Her boyfriend was honking loud, her ride to the county fair. Her mom surveyed the kitchen seemingly satisfied. Huffing and blowing hair out of her face glad her chores were done. Mom taking an apron corner wiped grime from her cheek. She�d hoped but not expected now to go out and have some fun. She looked in her mothers eyes for some hint or reaction. What if she had to baby sit and watch the seven brats? If she did the weekends ruined having to stay at home. One still in diapers another building things with slats. Mom approached Billy Jean and kissed her on the cheek. With a slap on her skinny rump sent her out the door. Sunlight caught the curly locks above the back of a dirty slip. Running down the lane singing, ain�t comin back no more no more. The Masked Writer <o.-> <o.o> � 2002 T Lovett |
|
 |