Sunday, December 1, 2013

Her Special Day

As readers of this blog know, I help with a writing class at a local retirement home. My friend Selma had fallen and broken her hip. I have visited with her a few times and by all indications not has she healed well, she will be returning to class tomorrow. But as I do on occasion, I wanted to share with you the writing prompt and my story. I thought the timing was appropriate.

Writing prompt:
Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her dress, took a deep breath, and waked toward where he was sitting.

My Story:

There are few days in a girl’s life so well remembered. This occasion would be one of those times. The day had been anticipated and marked on her calendar for weeks. Angela Miller took out her magic marker and put a large X on the day just before the magical day.  She later spent a restless night in her bedroom surrounded by mementos of her short life.

Her mother insisted Angela close her eyes and get some sleep, but that request was near impossible. Angela needed to come up with the perfect words for when the two would meet. She tossed and turned, rolled over several times, staring at the eggshell colored ceiling, now barely visible from the darkness of the night sky. Only a small night light plugged into the wall several feet from her bed, kept the room from total darkness. Impossible to think any longer, Angela fell asleep soon after the stroke of midnight.

As the morning light made its way through her white lace curtains, Angela raced from her room downstairs to make sure she had plenty of time for her mother to help wash and curl her hair into picture-perfect form. The dress that Angela hand-picked for this special day was laid out across the sofa. The red dress offered her the confidence she would need later in the day.

The telephone rang a few times. They were calls from friends questioning if Angela was ready. She was. The clock crept along at a protracted pace. But as the appointed time neared, Angela was ready to leave with a smile glued to her face.

When she arrived, the room was crowded. Her eyes spied who she had waited to see. He was sitting in a chair fit for a king, donning the perfect suit. She inched closer. The noise from all others surrounding her was drowned out by her inner thoughts. She never dreamed her body would be this stuffed with nervous energy. But after weeks of running this moment through her head, the time had come. Catching a signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed her dress, took a deep breath and walked towards where he was sitting.

She was assisted up onto a makeshift stage decorated in shapes and colors designed for the event. This was her first time. The young Angela inspected her surroundings one last time. He looked kind and gentle. His soothing voice settled her nerves. “Please, come sit with me,” he said.

Angela took that last leap of faith and climbed into his lap. All the planning, all the anticipation came down to this one moment in time which would never be forgotten. After all, her mother was paying for the photo. “Hello, Santa, my name is Angela Miller and I have been a very good girl this year.”


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