Wednesday's Words on a Friday
On Wednesdays, Delores,
from Under The Porch Light, has a word challenge meme which she calls “Words
for Wednesday”.
She puts up a selection
of six words which we then use in a short story, or a poem.
I’m hopeless at poetry
so I always do a story.
It’s a fun challenge…why
not join in?
Here is my story:
The air smelled of sunshine; warm, soft and sweet. It was a smell Katy remembered well and if she closed her eyes she would be ten years old again, standing by the front porch with her little suitcase, waiting for Grandma Pauline to open the door.
Every summer of her childhood since she was three, Katy had spent right here with Gram and Pop.
Now, here she was again standing by the front porch, drinking in the scents and sights of the lemon-scented wattles, the honeysuckle curving over the porch railing, the bright grevilleas, the gauras that danced gaily in the slightest breeze.
For a few moments, Katy recalled the many tea parties she and Gram had held on the grass under the trees, with Gram's cupcakes and all Katy's dolls and teddies.
Over in the corner by the fence was the purple buddleia that she and Pop had planted. Sadly overgrown now and in need of pruning. Katy's eyes filled with tears as she realised that would be her job now.
Pop had died soon after Katy had left for London. A "Gap Year" they called it, a working or touring holiday between finishing Uni and settling down to her chosen career. But Katy had loved London so much, she'd stayed more than three years; until the phone call from Mum. Gram had died peacefully in her sleep and could Katy please come home?
Just like that, London was over and Katy wanted nothing more than to be home again.
After Gram's funeral, the will had been read and no one at all was surprised to find that Gram had left her cottage to Katy. And here she was, standing by the front porch, Gram's big old-fashioned key in her hand.
Katy wiped away the few tears, stepped to the door and turned the key in the lock. She was home.
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Lovely River.
ReplyDeleteI am sure that she will feel Gran in her cottage and garden - and be comforted.
You write beautifully!!
ReplyDeleteA beautiful, emotive word picture you have painted here, River. :)
ReplyDeleteBtw, River...I explained my comment in your previous post...just to clarify what I meant in my first response to your post. :)
ReplyDeleteElephant's Child; the kitchen is where Katy feels Gran's spirit most, while Pop inhabits the garden.
ReplyDeletefishducky; thank you.
Lee; thank you, I try to write happy stories. Previous comment? I'll have to go back and look, I've forgotten.
A wonderful story that has helped make my day. I often wish I had grandparents that I had known. Just a mum and dad and half-brother and adopted at that although couldn't have asked for three more loving people. Still would have loved to have grandparents to love ss well.
ReplyDeleteI had to wipe away a few tears too, lovely story.
ReplyDeleteMerle...............
Mimsie; I didn't know my grandparents either, we left Germany when I was 6 months old. from what my mum told me, I didn't miss a thing.
ReplyDeleteMerle; I keep trying to think of ways to expand it, but nothing has worked so far.
This is a very sweet "poem" River. Frankly I mostly prefer my poems in prose and you've done a lovely job of painting both a picture in our minds, AND the emotions behind it. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteKathy Gottberg; welcome to drifting. It isn't a poem, I don't do poetry, it's a short story, a moment in time thing. I get the ideas for a story and write them down, but none ever progress to full story size. It doesn't concern me much, I'm happy with the bits and pieces my mind throws out to me.
ReplyDeleteI think it's actually much harder to write a SHORT short story well, than a longer one. You've nailed it - there's a real sense of time, place, emotion and character that really draws me in.
ReplyDelete