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Lucy’s Kitchen
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Lucy’s Kitchen |
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1slick_lady Member Ascendant
since 2000-12-22
Posts 6088standing on a shadow's lace 
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Lucy’s Kitchen Ruby slammed the kitchen door behind her as she came in (sinner, sinner, sinner) with everything that was happening Ruby was happy to see Lucy’s kitchen, that rare place where nothing could harm her. She hadn’t meant to slam it, it just did. That heavy oak frame with spider webbed meshed metal that if pulled too hard would fall back into place. Why would anyone have oak on a screen door was beside me but Papaw had to have it. Ruby found herself out of breath like she had been running all the way down the road from school yard bullies. And I guess she was running from bullies- the break your heart bully. Leaving you all bruised on the inside. She leaned over the stove and there was heaven in velvet white sauce as dumplings bubbled, fresh brown field peas as soft as the earth in a pan next to it. The roaster held thick chicken pieces browning in the oven, Lucy always did that, serving them separately and right on top was two pully bone pieces, (how did she know she was coming- but that was Lucy.) A round black cast iron skillet held cornbread makings swimming in bacon grease from the morning waiting its turn to go in the oven. Right after the echo of the slam another sound pierced the silence, “Rubbbbbbyyyyy.” It was Lucy yelling from the next room that smelled like heat and starch. Ruby knew that “Rubbbbbyyyy” and it always meant trouble, like the time when she was four or five and Lucy came looking for her with dutch cleaner and white rags. That day seemed like yesterday, she remembered it well, “Miss Ruby, did you write on the columns out front the house?” “No Mam," was answered, she knew she was lying. How could she not be, right there on the columns was the name practiced in fat red crayon…”Ruby”…”Ruby”... “Ruby”. Lucy sat on the porch next to Ruby not speaking in anger from the lie, creaking fast and loudly humming hymns in a white wicker rocker sipping dripping sweet tea as Ruby’s eyes dripped- crying more of her disappointment than having to scrub the columns, back to the present again with, “Rubbbbbbyyyy.” Ruby pulled into the room like a magnet to steel. The black warm woman wet from sweat reached over took her hand, held it to her cheek and Ruby knew she was home. “all romantics meet the same fate”…Joni Mitchell |
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| © Copyright 2006 Helen Chambers - All Rights Reserved | |||
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latearrival Member Ascendant
since 2003-03-21
Posts 5499Florida |
Got a book in ya? very good. martyjo |
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jo_kritickisto Junior Member
since 2006-08-17
Posts 15 |
I thought I'd respond to this one as I assume (and am I right in doing so?) that it constitutes the second part to your previous story about the feisty Ruby. I must say that I love Ruby's tenacity. The "Bottoms" is a great idea. I think I sometimes envy those who were born there, as they have a view on life that I could never have. |
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Larry C
since 2001-09-10
Posts 10286United States |
Helen, I love it when you do prose and wish you did it more often. And I do believe Martyjo is probably correct! Moms know best ya' know. Lovely.  If tears could build a stairway and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again. |
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patience_iago Member
since 2006-08-30
Posts 54 |
I love the imagery in this, its really amazing. "There are some days where i believe i might die of an overdose of satisfaction" |
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