Teachers saw the possibilities in Thomas. From the first day he entered the classroom, he was enthusiastic about learning everything there was to learn.
His mother had always taken pride in the way he looked. His father wore vests, and collared shirts, Thomas wanted to wear them too. When she heard the children would be reading from their primer on Friday, she was as excited as Thomas but nervous too.
Had he sufficiently learned to read after three months?
She thought he was bright, but she was his mother. After all, he was only 6.
She began to have thoughts of her own mother’s words:
He wonders if she’s unhappy with the long stem red roses. The florist had assured him that all women loved red roses.
She seems deep in thought.
He was hoping for a big smile and the touch of her soft hand on his. Instead, I’m feeling the Cabernet slide down my tightly muscled throat. Dating is difficult, but meeting for the first time in person instead of on Face Time felt awkward.
Ruby wondered if he could feel her angst.
She loathed her name. She was tired of being told it was an intense color. The only thing she felt strongly about was her angry resentment for her mother. She was a prostitute who wore ruby red colors because the men she accompanied prized the color, especially on her curvy body.
Was this a joke my mother played on me?
The name Ruby means nothing to me. It’s the color of blood, a sign of death. A death I would take pleasure in if it just happened to her by chance.
Yes, red long-stemmed roses from Randolph would have been lovely if she didn’t hate the color.
Smiling, she squeezes Randolph’s hand. “Thank you for the lovely flowers. You shouldn’t have”.
Christmas fills our minds with memories we hold dear. I’ve shared this story before.
It’s a tale of the innocence of childhood. I hope you enjoy it again … it’s a repost.
If you’re reading it for the first time, I hope it brings memories of your past Chrismas’.Dear Santa,
I forgot to mention I want a bicycle.
Thank You, Doris
(my family called me this name when I was growing up)
On Christmas morning, those were the words that rattled inside my mind when I saw this very shiny bicycle near our Christmas tree when I was 9 years old.
I know what most of you are thinking, ‘Why did she believe in Santa Claus at age 9?’ Isn’t that a little old to believe in things that don’t exist?
But, I always believed everything my parents said to me even if classmates said there wasn’t a Santa Claus. Parents wouldn’t fib to their children. Besides, we were taught every day in Catholic school that lying was a sin. I didn’t want to believe my parents would commit a sin on purpose. My little sister was 5, then, and she believed in Santa. Should I have spoiled it for her? No. And so, I believed.
On this particular Christmas morning, I questioned whether or not I’d asked for the right gifts. Even though, I had 2 gifts this year there had always been just one. I must have been really good.
I was thrilled when I opened my first gift and it was the special Shirley Temple doll I had asked for. She had the prettiest smile and blonde curls. She was wearing a plaid skirt with a crisp white blouse and a beret atop those ringlets of curls.
The second gift was the exact beret Shirley Temple wore when I’d seen her at the Macy’s store on 5th Avenue. My family had gone into the city to see Santa and all of the wonderful New York decorations. As I think back to that day, my grandmother had taken us to have lunch while my mother did some errands. Doing Santa’s work, I’m sure. Well, he did fulfill my wishes.
But there in the middle of the living room, next to a brightly lit tree, was this blue and white shiny bicycle. It had a giant white bow and my older sisters’ name on it. It was so pretty. It was remarkably high too. I could barely reach the handlebars. It was gleaming and satiny bright. Whenmy sister saw it she squealed and jumped all around the living room. She had a huge smile on her face while slight giggles emitted as she spoke. We all gathered around it as we oohed and aahed.
Excited and ready to get her new bicycle outside, my sister ran into her room to get dressed. I waited in the living room with my Shirley Temple doll. I knew she wasn’t going to be able to ride.When she grabbed her bicycle and was ready to go my mother told her she couldn’t go outside.
Stunned she asked, why?
She was told the bad news. It had snowed 5” during the night. The sidewalks were covered in snow.
Well, she wasn’t having any of it. She trotted down the flight of stairs with her new bicycle and went outside. She rode on the snow. Of course, she fell a lot too. It didn’t matter to her. She wasn’t going to be stopped. All of us watched from the window and laughed.
Weeks later the weather improved. Eventually, she gave me a ride on her new bicycle. I didn’t know how to ride a 2 wheel bike. She had to hold onto me and the bike as I attempted to reach the pedals. It was futile. I was too short. Since she’d asked for a boys bike with the bar that ran across from the handlebars to the seat, my riding days quickly ended.We did have great fun rides with me sitting on the back fender while holding onto the seat.
Four years later, when she left home at 18, I was given the bicycle. I’d learned to ride a 2 wheel bike by then but I was never as interested in bike riding as she was.
I guess I did get the right gifts from Santa that Christmas, after all.
The sun is sparkling over the crystal turquoise water. It’s warm as I lie on the sand staring at the sky. A warm sensation fills me with extraordinary peace. I feel free. I’m in the center of this beautiful landscape.
Colorful sailboats skim across the water. Beautifully dressed flamingos settle by the water’s edge. They resemble little gentlemen wearing pink shirts with yellow spotted ties. I watch them for some time. Their pink bodies blending with the turquoise water.
Upon a mossy tree filled mound sits a young man painting. His brush capturing footprints left behind on the grey speckled sand.
As sunset begins, he picks up another canvas ready to paint the night sky. The sky changes from a sunny yellow and blue to pink, red and orange. Stars dot the darkness. I’m feeling exuberant as I watch the changes. Another day’s set. Tomorrow, the exquisite scenery will return.
Inside the Mind of Isadora 