Thursday, April 19, 2007

Entry #2

Mama’s Drapes
by John Weagly


Mama’s soul is in them kitchen curtains.

Stackin’ dishes in the sink, Mama plopped over dead. She managed to reach up and grasp the curtains as she fell.

I believe her soul went into those thin yellow pieces of cloth.

I lived with her all my life. I never married, just stayed at home. Men didn’t seem to want me. Not pretty enough, I guess. Livin’ with her, I knew how she was. That’s why I understand about her spirit and her choice of eternal resting place.

She always loved curtains, or as she called ‘em, drapes. To me a drape goes from ceiling to floor, but Mama used that word to describe any fabric hangin’ in a window. She’d buy new ones whenever we could afford to, which wasn’t often. “New drapes make the house look fresh,” she’d say.

Now she’s restin’ in them.

People came over after her funeral. They saw the kitchen window and said, “You ought to fix those, Diane. Hangin’ that way, you’ll get bad memories.” They don’t get that Mama put the drapes like that, crooked and all, it’s the last thing she ever did. I want to leave them that way for just a little bit longer.

It’s cold now, frost on the ground in the morning. When warm weather gets here, I’ll re-hang Mama’s drapes. Then I’ll be able to open the kitchen window and let those pieces of fabric and soul flow in the breeze.

I expect she’ll like that.

13 comments:

Bernita said...

Just. Sweet.

strugglingwriter said...

Nice work Maht. I like how the tension seems to build throughout the story.

strugglingwriter said...

Sorry, I commented on the wrong entry. This one was well done as well. Nice imagery and such emotion in only 250 words.

Jaye Wells said...

I love the idea that our soul goes into something we loved. Very nice.

kcterrilynn said...

Wow...that's great imagery. Like Jaye said above, I love the idea of our souls melding with a beloved object.

Beth said...

This woman reminds me of my own mother. Crikey, all these stories are doing this today, but she believed you always hung nice curtains even if you were dirt poor because from the outside -- it looked like things were all right.

I especially liked the "it's the last thing she ever did" -- it struck me as my father passed away last year. I get that.

Sam said...

Nice sentiments - lovely piece. I wonder how many others will make the curtain an important part of the story? I like what you did with it.

kgilbert said...

Stong voice throughout. Beautiful ending. A good read.

Jude said...

I liked this. Fully understood the sentiment too.

Fence said...

Ah. That was just lovely. Good job.

Mark Best said...

Great narrative voive...hard to do in 250 words.

Fran Piper said...

Great voice, and with "let those pieces of fabric and soul flow in the breeze" you managed to introduce poetry without having it seem out of place. Nice job.

jason evans said...

I really like the idea. The crooked curtains are a powerful image. The juxtaposition of the wrongness with her soul's resting place is nice.

A high scorer overall.