Old Enough
I get up early cause I know Pearl will make biscuits, eggs, and crisp bacon and let me lick the warm salty lard with my fingers from the skillet once it cools off. I watch her go "mmmm, mmmm" and squeeze her lips into a smile. She starts the percolator for Paw-Paw, pours me a big glass of ice cold milk and stands over me saying, "drink it down." Pearl always makes hard things seem easy, not so good days feel okay and I wish she were my Momma. We don't look the same but if she asked me to be her child I'd be the luckiest girl alive. She pulls my fingers out of my mouth, " you get worms now, hear me?" I most definitely don't want worms so I am really trying to stop chewing my nails. Pearl's nails are always clean, trimmed, with a clear, shiny gloss. Her lips are full, ripe, like a fresh dark purple plum. She has fine teeth, big hazel eyes and wears tiny gold studs in each earlobe. I want earrings, but the thought of a needle being pushed though my ear doesn't sound like it's worth the trouble, at least right now. I would like some tap shoes though. Pearl laughs when I tell her about my dancing dreams. She says I have happy feet cause I am wiggling my toes all the time. When Paw-Paw goes out on the porch to smoke his pipe I always show him my latest moves. After breakfast, Pearl starts washing our sheets and says there is a dust bunny under my bed. I don't want to look. I scare myself enough just looking at hobos. Anyway, back to the railroad. Just can't help myself. I don't curse, smoke, steal or commit sins that I know of, but I can tell you right here and right now, hobos teach and preach more than any one body needs. I confess I became on friendly terms with a man named Hank. He'd wave and say, " Hey, May! Keep smilin' kiddo!" and he'd sometimes be laying in the shade right calm when I snuck up to see him. He always looked sad just before he caught sight of me. Soon as my big trap started jabbering he'd change like a chameleon. That is, he'd try to make life seem so fine. I new he was hungry. I started taking biscuits on the days I figured he'd be around and he was always obliged. Just like the song, Mr. Bojangles, I began to show off my dancing moves to cheer ole Hank up. How is it we just know someone isn't happy? He laughed and smiled; in my mind he had a harmonica or some groovy steps he'd show me, but he never did. When the rest of the jumpers, as he referred to his fellow train hopping hobos as, came around he'd shoo me off. He told me in a kind, yet tough way to go on home. Where Hank went I never knew; in my heart I liked to hold it was somewhere much better than the hard ass dirt he slept on, full of God only knows what, and lonesome nights with an empty belly and mosquitos. Back home, I'm hosed down. Pearl gives me a hard stare; I am guessing she is guessing where the heck I've been. I am full of cockleburs, red from the sun. She leaves Paw-Paw and me my favourite, whipped cream and orange jello. I always hug her when she heads back to the place she calls home; I will make sure that this summer I follow Pearl like a cat stalks, curious that is, not aiming to find trouble. Late, when Paw-Paw is loving his heap of second helpings from supper, I ease out from my bedroom and stand right in front of the late night news. Paw-Paw's old Grandpa eyes widen and I start dancing; I pretend to tap dance and point my toes toward the ceiling fan, clap my hands and fall onto the thick, Persian patterned carpet. Paw-Paw laughs with his belly bouncing. I guess for now, summer is getting off to a good start. I slink down the long hallway and slither into bed. I wonder where Hank is now; Memphis, Baton Rouge, New Orleans? By now, hobos, I mean, jumpers, could be anywhere. I say out loud as if I am praying, "Goodnight jumper Hank; goodnight Pearl". I wiggle my toes one more time, roll over toward the moon shining through my window and smile.
Comments (16)
beautiful rhythm and Edgar A. Poe--ish. Beautiful
Exquisitely penned a heartbreaking shanty!! Loved it!!💕❤️❤️
Lovely
Well-wrought! The rhythmic flow of this is superb! Had it been Mario that found her at the castle, he'd have been so relieved, but, alas, so few are as good a dude as our prodigal Italian plumber! (If you don't get that joke, I apologize! Dad's gotta dad-joke! Keeps our nervous systems aligned or something... "The princess is in another castle".)
Absolutely flawless. I’m going to jump on the band wagon and say that this should definitely be a top story!
I’m all in on this one, Christy. Achingly lovely and lonely. I’m with LC. This has TS written all over it!
Second L.C.'s nomination! great work.
I love this, and I'm having a tantrum if it doesn't get Top Story ❤️ The rhythm of it is perfect, like being swayed on someone's arms, and the echoes on those lines add to this effect.
Pure lyrical excellence! A delightful read, Christy! Love the “Castle O'Carry Oh, carry me back” couplets!
It does feel like a song, like Rapunzel high up in the turret letting down her hair. Such a lovely nostalgic poem.
This piece needs a melody!
This felt so lyrical and I sang it to my own tune! It was so poignant, relatable and so beautifully written! I loved it!
Christy, it's amazing to me how this urge for love is so universal and so old. We all feel it and you have elegantly represented this idea.
I feel like this is an old lament. Familiar, yet new.
This reads like a traditional song, Christy from years ago.
A very beautiful read once again You always come up with unique ideas to write