Wednesday's Words on a Friday
On Wednesdays, Elephant’s Child has been putting up a selection of six (or twelve) words which is called “Words for Wednesday”.
She had taken over this meme from Delores, who is gradually retiring from the blogging world.
In July, the meme continued here, at Drifting Through Life, August saw Jacqueline at Randomosity take a turn.
This month, Susan F at the most--of every moment is giving us the choice of words to play with.
Essentially the aim is to encourage us to write.
Each week we are given a choice of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image. What we do with those prompts is up to us: a short story, prose, a song, a poem, or treating them with ignore...
Some of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on their own blog. I would really like it if as many people as possible joined into this fun meme. If you are posting on your own blog - let us know, via link at the host's site,so that I, and other participants, can come along and applaud.
I’m hopeless at poetry so I always do a story.
It’s a fun challenge…why not join in?
Here is my story:
She woke up knowing already what day it was, but checked her diary just to be doubly sure. There it was in big red letters, 9:30am. She had no real reason to feel a tiny spark of fear, but it was there just the same.
She thought of all the years they'd been together, They'd first appeared when she was eleven, a bit of quick mental math gave her the answer, 52 years. In every school picture since sixth grade, there they were. Annoying and often in the way, but never giving any real trouble. She hadn't wanted them, but had managed to assimilate them into her life without much thought, just one more thing to deal with really.
Her favourite fringed Red Indian shirt no longer fit, it had been designed for a younger child, now she had to wear clothes designed to accommodate breasts. She was too old now to play at Cowboys and Indians anyway.
There had been no pride in being among the first in her class to have them, no love for the obvious outward indication that she was now, in Mother Nature's eyes at least, a woman.
For heaven's sake, who wanted that so early in life?
It was genetics of course, the family template if you will, no getting away from that.
Her mother and grandmother before her had travelled the same early path.
Over the years those breasts had filled out bras, t-shirts, bikinis, then later had filled her babies with nourishing mother's milk. And following medical recommendations, they had been poked, prodded and squished (painfully) every two years at the mammogram clinic to check for indications of anything going wrong.
Nothing ever had.
The last mammogram, at the city clinic just last month, had shown something.
A phone call, then a letter and a new appointment was made for a repeat screening. Another squashing of the boobs, perhaps an x-ray, possibly an ultrasound view. The letter stated she may be there for up to three hours. With the letter, a form to fill out. A permission form to be signed. If a biopsy was necessary, did she give permission? Of course. Do whatever is necessary.
Yesterday, she had walked to the Radiology building, it was just in the next suburb, to see how long it would take to get there. She didn't want to be late. The building looked new and modern, although it had been there for quite some time now. She knew the facilities would be clean and comfortable, but still she didn't want to have to be going there. She glanced at her watch, almost time to be off.
In full disclosure, she had emailed her daughters to let them know. For their sakes, she hoped nothing would be found.