Writer's Cramp Contest including a small town, big fire and you.
|I never understood what actually happened as I was barely 8 years old at the time. I will tell you what little details I recall.
We lived in a small town called Remember. I was an only child so I did not realize how poor we were. I happily played with my homemade dolls that Mama made, dressing them in hand-stitched clothes from scraps of worn material.
To give you an idea of my neighborhood through the eyes of a young child, I can tell you what I recollect. Most everyone had at least two dogs and a cat. No one tied animals up back then. Most every household had an outhouse and an inside pump for water. We didn’t feel poor,
but maybe it was because we all lived pretty much equal in our living standards. Jobs were far and few between but everyone supported each other through hard times.
Getting back to my story… I’d like to tell you about the day Aunt May swept me away to an unfamiliar place where she introduced me to my grandparents on Mama’s side of the family. It was scary at first because all I knew was Mama and Pa, and Aunt May, on occasion. I look back on the culture shock I must have had, with all the fine clothes and inside toilets and such…
It was nothing like my simple life back home as a whole new world that I had never imagined opened before me… all the hugs and kisses I was only used to from Mama and Pa were now shared with “relatives” I had never known. And the new dresses I was given were so unusual compared to what I was used to.
With my new haircut and lots of frills to take home with me, I was ready for the day that Aunt May prepared to drive me home. We had just walked out the door when her phone rang, a sound I was slowly getting used to.
Aunt May took me aside, hugging me tighter than usual. At first I was confused with all the tear-filled eyes that stabbed my innocent soul.
“There was a fire,” someone began.
“A fire?” I asked.
“Yes, a large fire that spread through the neighborhood,” another person said.
At first, I did not understand.
“A fire?” I repeated, still unaware what was going on.
I never forgot that day, nor did anyone explain the details. People back then were private and I was too young to know better than to ask questions
Although I’ve led a decent life since, I miss Mama and Pa. I have recently re-visited the place I was born. A new neighborhood has replaced the old one. There are no outhouses nor hand-pumps in the kitchens. Little girls play with their store-bought dolls and wear dresses not made by the hand of their mothers.
I will never forget the very special memories of a small town called Remember.