My grandmother’s afternoons were written on her shoes––insides rubbed to fine parchment, once shiny trim worn down to dull cowhide, shoelaces loosened for easy ingress and escape, tongues swollen, vamps dusted from her habitual circling of gravel streets in search of treasures. Her pockets told the rest of the story–discarded Cracker Jack prizes, severed limbs of dolls, lost marbles, toy soldiers, single jacks separated from their families. Lined one slightly ahead of the other as though she had just stepped out of them, they told her last story that morning they carried her from her house without them.
To participate in this photo prompt, go here: https://rochellewisoff.com/2017/09/20/22-september-2017/
Lovely – tho’ the sad twist at the end turned the corners of my mouth down a bit. Beautiful response to the prompt.
xx,
mgh
(Madelyn Griffith-Haynie – ADDandSoMuchMORE dot com)
ADD/EFD Coach Training Field founder; ADD Coaching co-founder
“It takes a village to transform a world!
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Thanks, Madelyn.
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You are most welcome, Judy. I love your writing and try to read whenever I can.
xx,
mgh
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You paint a very vivid word picture. Good write!
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Thanks, Lav
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I loved it! A smashing read, and great interpritation.
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Delicious character
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delicious chatacter
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Beautiful descriptions.
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Thanks, Iain.
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Dear Judy,
You made me feel I knew this grandmother in few words. Well done and welcome to Friday Fictioneers.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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What a thoughtful comment, Rochelle. Thanks.
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I enjoyed your details in this nice dense short fiction…
loved “Cracker Jack prizes…” esp.
🙂
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All of the canning jars full of these prizes that my grandmother lined up in her basement were bulldozed under when she died and my father donated the land her house was on to the town to build a hospital on. I think of them often, actually, since I make collage art. I rescued only two of them–a tiny pink dog and a a white elephant–charm-sized. And her button hook and eyeglasses, shards of a quilt, but not her tennis shoes,which were actually blue canvas. What memories these photos dredge up.
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oh wow – that is a great story – and wonder what will happen to all of your collages someday – ya know?
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They’d probably be worth something now!
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I know.. at least to me.
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A delightful story which told us so much about your character.
My 100-word story
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Thanks for the link, Keith.
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Hey, most of that stuff would be considered antiques now. My dd didn’t even know what a jack was.
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What is a dd, please?
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Ah. Bet you meant your dad???
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You know what it is, right?
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sad, haunting and absolutely beautiful
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A really touching tale. Nicely done.
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I wonder how my grandchildren will remember me. Nicely done.
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Are you leaving them something in writing to remember you by?
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I am, but I bet it ends up on a bonfire! 😄
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I doubt that. Someone will treasure what you say.
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It depends which of my children gets to it forst, one will treasure it forever, the other will regard it as clutter and out it will go 😄
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Put it in an envelope with your daughter’s name on it who will treasure it.
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Haha, that is so funny, you would reasonably think that wouldn’t you, but it is the other way round! I am leaving everything I’ve written to my son who keeps everything and I’ve warned him he’ll need to build an extension 😄 My daughter once took advantage of my being bedridden and cleared out a cupboard here, throwing out her brother’s childhood teddy bears! I didn’t inow what she’d put in the bin until she left and I crawled downstairs to look, because I know what she’s like. Of course I rescued them 😉
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How sad; beautifully written.
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A very atmospheric tale, with a strong sense of Grandma. She sounds feisty.
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And stubborn.
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I really like this. I didn’t grow up in an era in which everyone had dozens of pairs of shoes, and it’s still hard for me to toss out a worn out pair. I can Identify with these shoes, left behind when the old lady died.
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What an amazing story! What an amazing photogoraph. And how poignant is the tale you tell.
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I’ve told other stories about her, Dorann. Here is one: https://judydykstrabrown.com/2014/08/02/grandma-steps-out/
Others can be found by typing Grandma into the search bar. There’s one entitled “Mama Milk My Goat” and some others, I believe.
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This is an amazing story. You must have had the same wonderful relationship with your dear grandmother as I did. In fact, I am sure she had a similar pair of runners.
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Ha..The photo was a prompt. My grandmother’s shoes were blue canvas laceup Keds, similarly run-down with holes over her bunions. The story, however, was true.
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When I was little I spent a lot of time with her because she liked to play games and teach me how to knit and crochet. As I got older, her martyrish tales got to me and I spent less time there. I found out at my 100 year town reunion that a family of 10 kids used to go watch TV with her every night because they didn’t have one. That made me feel better.
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Poignant picture of Grandma and your memories…
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Thanks, Bette.
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I read and commented earlier, but I’m glad you added it to this weeks Senior Salon. WELL worth a reread.
xx,
mgh
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Your story is filled with love, sadness and wistfulness. A beautiful response to the prompt.
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So glad to have you back, Bernadette. I’ve missed Sr. Salon.
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I always have the same thought about my slippers when I step out of them to get into bed, about what they will say about me if I die in the night. I always align them perfectly side by side, so that when I get up in the night I can just step right into them. Sometimes, though, at the end of the day when I come to put them on, I notice they have moved out of step a little and that makes me wonder if they think I’m being a little too perfectionist.
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Ps sorry, I forgot to say, lovely story!
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Or, perhaps, they are up to hijinks you don’t know about when you are out of sight. I love that idea.
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Yes, I was trying not to think about that! 😄
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