»
Main Forums
»
Passions in Prose
»
For Chloe's Sake
| Passions in Prose |
|
For Chloe's Sake |
|
|
Jidge New Member
since 2001-03-12
Posts 1 |
Tenderly, her little fingers curl around the weathered ivory, struggling to find the singular note. The harmony playing out in her head. The tick tick ticking of the metronome in opposition to the tap tapping of her foot. Dressed in my mother's pearls, the worn heel of her sock poking out of the shiny metallic shoe appropriately adorned with a plastic pansy. Lipstick stains above he angelic smile reveal attempts to transform a naiveté into something wiser. Her audience is composed of her ever deserving confidants. Expressionless dolls staring beyond the grandness of the instrument, hearing only the hollowness of the notes being struck. Glancing over her shoulder as if asking for approval, she smiles, communicating in a way a child only knows. Repeating over and over the sour notes one on top of the other in her devised rhythmic form. Her posture and movement belong to that of a concert pianist. Her melody to that of a child who is convinced that nursery rhymes and lullabies are concertos. I, her mother, stand in the doorway frozen by a sense of the past and by a slight fear for the future. As my eyes trace the outline of her petite frame, I sigh. I long for the days of hair bows and frills to once again exist without caution. My eyes swelling with tears, I too easily realize her merry-go-round with it's once vibrant colours and infectious circus music has tarnished and ceased it's magical spinning. Squaring my shoulders, I rehearse my words. Most of what I could utter sounds so trite. She will be told these things more often than she realizes. I desperately pain for the words so she will know, so I can confidently say, I have told her. All of my own life's experiences flood my mind. I know she must learn from her own experiences, yet I am compelled to shorten the road and to protect her by sharing my hindsight. Tentatively, I make a mental note of all the important things she needs to know in order that her soul is not lost in the shuffle of every day existence. She must know things like; love unconditionally, be thoughtful, and do not display empty manners. Instead, live the courtesy born to caring. How do I tell her to be bold, yet to remain cautious? How can I explain the satisfaction she can experience in being part of something larger than herself? How can I instill in her the conscience to maintain a sense for the past? Those things that are meaningful. Those things that will give her the grace and the pride to exist knowing her boundaries and most importantly, knowing herself. Realizing my cheeks are stained with tears, I stop glaring at my crystal ball of the future and relinquish those worries to fate. Her nimble fingers remain aloof of meaning on the keyboard. I approach her cautiously. I do not want to disturb her, while at the same time cannot resist the urge to embrace her and protect her from life's idiosyncrasies. In that moment, I wonder if it is I who needs sheltering. Is it me who needs protection against her keenness to grow up? Wiping the tears with the back of my hand, I reach to grasp her shoulder gently. Before I am able to feel her beneath my fingertips, she turns, startled by my presence. She notices my tears, but does not allow me the opportunity to explain their meaning. Instead, she plays a singular note on the keyboard, and dances her hand down my arm. Intertwining her fingers in mine, I know within that simple gesture, I am all that she needs me to be. ~ Whoever you are...I have always depended on the kindness of strangers. ~ Tennessee Williams. |
||
| © Copyright 2001 Valerie Elizabeth - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Solstice Son Member
since 2000-09-19
Posts 469 |
if....I had the words to describe my awe and appreciation....I would use them... Sol  ..oh and welcome by the way ~Which way did They go? How many of Them were there? I MUST find Them!! I AM THEIR LEADER!!~ Author Unknown..well at least to me..:) |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
