Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Caterwauling

Well it is almost Thanksgiving. It is cold and wet here in middle Georgia. I'm linking up with trifecta with this post. We are using the transitive verb "pluck" in this weeks challenge. As always, lots of good reading in the links.

www.trifectawritingchallenge.com

And of course, here is my entry.

Thanksgiving 2013, the official day of family togetherness. Janet Futrell usually spends the day alone. What little family she has lives far away. Harold her husband stays at the All Saints Convalescent Center.

She still runs a small daycare in her cramped apartment.

Her daycare began when a neighbor's baby cried all night. As she angrily, groggily stepped out her door to get her newspaper and saw the mother, Rosita Rodriquez. A loud cluster of sound subsided as Ralph Calderon nodded at her as if she agreed before walking his prissy butt home.

“I'm so sorry about Travion's crying. He catches everything at daycare.”

With her arm around Rosita, Janet patted her back as the young woman sobbed.

“I was fixing to put muffins in the oven.”

“I've heard you Southern women could cook.”

“Well, my cooking improves when someone helps me eat. I'll be back over with muffins in about 30 minutes. Dry your tears dear.”

And that is when Janet started doing daycare. No more bad colds for Travion until kindergarten. He would sit wrapped in a quilt as he and Janet did puzzles and looked out the window on the few days he missed school.

Leaning on her cane, Janet stood next to the window looking out to the street of the comfortable subdivision, plucking the fat cashews from the nut mix. A large teenager with the body of a man wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“Miss Janet, you know you are not supposed eat only one type of nut.”

“Whatever do you mean Travion, You know how Uncle Martavis gets when he sees Cashews.”

Travion rolls his eyes in the direction of Martavis getting red and gesturing widely with his hands. “He is only getting warmed up, anyone next him gets to hear politics and more politics.”


“Pshaw, a little caterwauling is good for the soul.”

6 comments:

  1. Awww I love that he comes back to her as a teenager! Beautiful written. :)

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  2. I saw my grandmother in this piece. Ready to come to the rescue with baking, compassion and wisdom.

    I loved what you did with this prompt, Ann!

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  3. I love the compassion and the sweetness in these characters.

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  4. I love the softness in this piece. Perfect for the season. Thank you for linking up. Don't forget to vote.

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  5. Love the underlying tenderness in here Ann:-)

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