I finished my entry for the Writing contest. There are three categories, Poetry, Prose and Journal entry. Also, this years theme is "Thru a Glass Starkly", so you have to use the word prism, mirror, stained glass, or something else I can't remember in your work. Mine uses prism and it is prose. (Last year I had a journal entry.)
Here it is:
Grandma’s Hatpin
Sunday was the day Mama and I visited Grandma’s house. Mama always let me wear one of my best party dresses, with a ruffled petticoat underneath. I remember wearing shiny black patent leather shoes with lace trimmed white anklets. And she’d curl sections of my shoulder length brown hair around her finger to make ringlets. On our way out, we’d pass daddy in the living room, the Sunday paper fanned out in front of him on the floor. “Bye Daddy!” “Bye girls, don’t be too late.” he’d say.
When we got there, grandma always had something waiting for us. Lemonade and fresh baked cookies in summer; hot tea and warm gingerbread in winter. I can’t remember a single word that was spoken while we sat at grandma’s scrubbed kitchen table; just happy memories of contented voices and sweet laughter. When we finished our treats, Grandma would inspect the fronts and backs of my hands for any stray crumbs. When she was satisfied, I’d run back to her bedroom straight to her vanity table. Climbing onto the cushioned bench I’d sit on my knees, and open her jewelry box. I loved running my fingers through all the treasures within. Buttons, beads, bracelets earrings, necklaces, and bits of broken baubles. Listening to the soft sound of conversation in the other room, I’d try on innumerable combinations. Holding each piece up to the light, I’d admire their color and shine.
But Grandmas greatest treasure was not in her jewelry box. She kept it in the top left drawer of her vanity table, in a small carved wooden box. I wasn’t allowed to open that drawer unless Grandma was in the room with me. So, after deciding which jewelry option I liked best that day, I’d walk proudly back into the kitchen to model for mama and Grandma. I’d spin around to their enthusiastic applause, and then end with a curtsy and a bow. I’d say, “Grandma, can we look at your hatpin now?” She’d laugh and say, “We sure can darlin’.” “Yay!” I’d shout, grabbing her hand. We’d rush back to her bedroom. Mama would smile and follow slowly behind.
Grandma would open the top left drawer of her vanity table and take out the small carved wooden box. Next she’d turn off the overhead light, and turn on the lamp beside her cushy soft chair. She called it her ‘Seeing Lamp’, because that’s where she sat to do her knitting. She’d sit me on her lap, and I remember how she always smelled like lavender. Mama would lean against the doorjamb, arms folded, indulgent smile on her face. I’d hold my breath as Grandma slowly opened the box. The hatpin lay on a white silken bed. It was a beautiful faceted amethyst crystal hatpin, with gold filigreed settings. Grandma said that her mother had given it to her as a wedding present. Grandma would let me pick the hatpin up, and hold it up under the light of the lamp. Prisms of purple would spill all over the floor and walls like pretty lavender flower petals. I’d slowly turn the hatpin under the light, watching the petals twirl and tumble. Grandma and mama would smile at my enchanted face. After carefully placing Grandma’s hatpin back in its box, Grandma would hug and kiss mama and I and send us back home with a package of goodies for daddy.
Years later, as I was preparing for my wedding, Mama came into my bedroom carrying a small package. It was from Grandma. I opened it carefully, and saw the small carved wooden box. With tears in my eyes, I lifted the lid, and there lay the amethyst crystal hatpin on its white silken bed. I held it up to the light. Beautiful purple flower petals spilled across the walls and floor. I was immediately transported back to the cushy chair in Grandmas bedroom, the smell of her lavender eau de toilette and her soft breathing as she cuddled me on her lap. Mama smiled, enfolding me in her embrace. She helped me tuck the hatpin into the coil of my hair. I turned my head, looking in the mirror. The sunlight fell on the hatpin causing it to glow and sparkle with living fire. Mama dabbed at my eyes with her handkerchief. “You look beautiful.” she whispered. She handed me my bouquet of lavender and white flowers. “You girls ready?” Daddy said from the doorway. I turned once more in front of the mirror. “Yes Daddy, we’re ready.” Mama and I smiled at each other. Linking arms, we walked together towards the door.
Copyright 2010 Stacie Sunny
