Belle
She was always on the road picking up little pieces of colored glass.
I asked her once what she did wi h them and all she did was give me a toothless grin and shake her matted hair at me.
She wore gloves no matter what the season or temperature outside and I could see her blackened fingertips poking through the ends. I stole a dollar from my fathers wallet while he slept one night and went to the hardware store the next morning and bought her a new pair of brown jersey gloves. They cost .95 cents including tax so I slipped the extra nickel in the right hand gloves thumb as a little surprise for her.
That afternoon she was in the alley way behind our house looking for her precious glass so I approached her and handed her the gloves.She looked at them, then at me and nodded her head.She slowly removed her old gloves as if they were made of lace .She folded them and put them in the pocket of the old green coat she wore. I saw he hands for the first and last time that hot afternoon and was awed by the slender white fingers ending in grime that extended from an alabaster hand.Her blued veins showed me her skin was parchment thin as she slid her left hand into her new glove.
She smiled a little secret smile to herself and picking up the right hand glove ,she must have felt the weight of the nickel inside. She turned the glove over and the nickel rolled into her palm.Looking at me through teared eyes she smiled. Slipping the nickel into her pocket with her old gloves she pulled the glove on her right hand and turning, she walked down the alleyway stopping only to pick up small bits of broken colored glass.
Published by Christopher Whedon
I just am. Older than many younger than some I enjoy all that I do. At 56 I have found there are several new things under the sun and that all old adages are just that, old adages! I hope to brighten a... View profile
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1 Comments
Post a CommentWow, that one reminded me a little of Mom. She used to wander in the driveway picking up shiny rocks. Then she'd put them in the window sill of her kitchen and eventually the weight caused the window to fall out. Good work, I like your writing.