Little tin dishes, dressed in their Sunday best. Adorned with tiny blushing flowers. As I wash them, I imagine my life in detail, how I'll be when I'm a grown up. I stop and dip the teacup in the white porcelain dishpan of rinse water, I peek over my shoulder to make sure grandma's not watching and then take a long drink from the cup. I'll pretend it's coffee, yes, it's coffee now. I'm a grown up.
The dishes are washed. I take a walk down the drive, stopping along the creek bank to pick "sour grass". This will be my supper. I push my baby carriage with my sweet baby, she's sleeping softly. I'm a good mommy, I feed her and change her clothes.
Time to eat. The old maple tree stump is my kitchen table. I set my tiny tin dishes on the table and prepare for supper.
Washing the dishes again, I dry them and put them away. I wash my baby's dress in the porcelain dish pan. I gently twist it the way grandma does, and hang it on the line with big peoples clothes. It makes me feel real adult to hang the dress on the clothes line.
The sun is setting, the fireflies begin to blink. I run to catch them. I feel like a little girl again. The day is done. Me and grandma sit on the porch swing, she starts out singing The Old Rugged Cross. As I chime in, I'm happy that I'm a little girl. Today when I look at my little tin dishes, I feel like that same little girl.
The dishes are washed. I take a walk down the drive, stopping along the creek bank to pick "sour grass". This will be my supper. I push my baby carriage with my sweet baby, she's sleeping softly. I'm a good mommy, I feed her and change her clothes.
Time to eat. The old maple tree stump is my kitchen table. I set my tiny tin dishes on the table and prepare for supper.
Washing the dishes again, I dry them and put them away. I wash my baby's dress in the porcelain dish pan. I gently twist it the way grandma does, and hang it on the line with big peoples clothes. It makes me feel real adult to hang the dress on the clothes line.
The sun is setting, the fireflies begin to blink. I run to catch them. I feel like a little girl again. The day is done. Me and grandma sit on the porch swing, she starts out singing The Old Rugged Cross. As I chime in, I'm happy that I'm a little girl. Today when I look at my little tin dishes, I feel like that same little girl.
4 comments:
You are a great writer! This could be my story too! Sad that my kids don't know the simple childhood life that I remember. I loved reading about your grandmother. I have been to Hazard,Ky. in the Appalachian Mountains on a mission trip...went to college with some beautiful girls from there. Thanks for coming by :)
Thanks for stopping by! And thanks so much for the nice compliment. It saddens me that my kids have not learned the pleasures of a simple life. We just recently had the Amish build us a small one room cabin. It sits on our property. It is completely primitive, no running water or electric. I'm hoping we can share a lot of things there with our kids. We've not moved in yet because of the wet weather, but I can't wait!
What a great post Mikki. I love the dishes. ISn't it a joy to have such great memoriesof our grandmothers!
Wonderful post Mikki, I never knew my grandmother but my grandkids will know me! I love the dishes, the colors are so alive!
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