A memory of things past

[JitterbugPerfume]

I make no pretense of being a writer This was written for my children and my childrens children

here goes----

Mommy was sitting in a geri-chair. Her white hair was curly, as only the hair of a very old woman can be. When I touched it, it felt like cotton


Daddy said "who is this Willie?" She looked at me, smiled,and said "that is my daughter"

Not satisfied with that , daddy said "which one" I mouthed the word "Midge" behind his back

a smile came across mommys face . She said "why, thats Midgie"

Her eyes the clearest , palest blue I have ever seen had the film of old age on them

I can see those same eyes in my great grand son ,Logan

I took her hand and raised it to my lips. The fingernais were painted pale lavendar . She was wearing the rings she loved . The skin was soft and fragile

[oneighty]

1. Ahhh!

JitterbugPerfume has entered the arena.

Beware everybody must get stoned that enters here.

You be making emotional people cry Jitterbug.

180

[JitterbugPerfume]

2. if memory serves

being stoned can be good or bad

i prefer the kind you get from the fragrant weed

[Orrex]

3. Hey, it's all about pretentiousness!

If you can't be pretentious with The Pretentious, why bother trying?

I'm no good at writing microstories because I can't seem to distill an episode down to its 150 word essence. You've covered an awful lot of ground in just a few lines, and the vibe is more like poetry than prose. There's also a charming vagueness going on that works in a piece of this brevity but which might break down over a longer narrative arc.

Although you don't spell it out, Willie is in the throes of senility, Alzheimer's, or some similarly deteriorating mental condition, but the specific condition is irrelevant; the vagueness helps to evoke and echo the dreamlike character of Midge's remembering.

"Felt like cotton" is a lovely image, in part because cotton can feel like many things. Also, it's contrary to my expectation of an older woman's heavily-sprayed coiffure; this difference makes the image more striking. "Fingernails were painted pale lavender" is also nice, like the kind of detail one is likely to recall, almost for no apparent reason, years later. If Midge notes that her Mother's hair is like cotton, might she also note that her Mother's skin is like something? Other than just being "soft and fragile?"

In any case this is a touching moment recounting a familiar scene--the recognition of a baby's (or child's) genetic heritage. What is different about your evocation is the shifts in time. We leap perhaps 20, 30, or 40 years (and back!) in the space of three lines--that's quite an ambitious move! In an instant we shift from the decades-old recollection to the present, and then we jump right back again! This, too, portrays the mercurial nature of memory.

You make, I think, an effective choice in using "Mommy" and "Daddy," which ordinarily imply that the speaker is a young child, but that's not the case here. Instead, the narrator is a considerably older woman, though we don't realize it until we're well into the piece. Then we feel a certain wistfulness, though not exactly sadness, at Midge's memory. This connection--spanning five generations!--is rare and powerful.

I don't have much to suggest, honestly, other than to mention a few grammatical glitches, such as punctuation and capitalization. These are largely irrelevant, of course, if this is meant as a poem, but if it's meant as prose, then the rules of grammar are a little more strict (for whatever reason).

My only real suggestion involves this sentence:
"Her eyes the clearest , palest blue I have ever seen had the film of old age on them"
It's a little clunky, because it seems that the eyes are both clear and filmy. I can figure out that the clear eyes are the eyes in Midge's memory, but even with that in mind the sentence is a little awkward. It may just be me, but when I read "film" here I instantly thought of "movie," which clearly is off the mark!

I think that the awkwardness might vanish if you wrote "have ever seen now had," and you might also remove "on them."

But now that I think of it, this objection is only true if the eyes are Willie's actual eyes as Midge was seeing them. If Midge is recollecting the scene, then it's appropriate that these "filmy" eyes might be the clearest she's ever seen, if only figuratively. It's one of them-there metaphors you hear about, I guess...

Regardless, it's a lovely little piece, touching without being maudlin. Is this part of a larger work, or is it a stand-alone? And do you envision it as a poem or as prose? And is the title intended to evoke Proust?

Thanks for sharing!

[JitterbugPerfume]

4. Thank you Orrex

This is indeed a true memory of my mother ,written with no intention in mind other than to make her"real"to her grandchildren and great grandchidren

People of southern origin always call their parents "mommy" and "daddy"

It is just one of the personal scenes I have "jotted down" about my parents and others in my family who have passed on,
so that maybe they will not be forgotten

[Hidden Stillness]

5. When Writing Has No Pretense at All, Then It Can Come From Your Heart

When I first started reading this piece, I wondered if the part about questioning who the daughter was, would be a literary device, and would keep it ambiguous as to which one had the loss of memory. First Daddy asks "Who is that?" then Mom answers "My daughter," then Daddy asks "Which one?" and Mom answers "Midgie." I wondered if the story would slant it to make it seem that one had the problem remembering, then reveal at the end that it was the other, because you could read that beginning, and it could have been either, at first. Questioning because you don't know, or as a test for the other; answering because you are the one who remembers, or to try to retrieve memory.

Then of course you explained the real purpose of writing it, and it was not literary at all, but like a journal of recorded facts, to keep people alive and remembered. When my Mom died, and for a while after, I did that too, so a whole life wouldn't slip away, as if she had never been here. Quotes, opinions, places connected with the family, books she loved, memories of trips to meet other relatives as a kid, what disease complications she eventually died of, and some of her behavior, thoughts, fears, her gracious and friendly behavior till the end, when I was taking care of her--painful, but necessary, as I wanted all these things safe, before I forgot them myself. A totally different motivation for writing, and I think an even truer one than "literary brilliance,"--the need to tell things as they really were, and protect them from being lost to eternity.

They do not totally die and leave, if you keep the clear remembrance of them present in your mind. You lost them in the world, but you can carry the thought of them in your mind, and be with them there. Describing them so your thoughts are more distinct than maybe they were even when the people were still alive and you didn't need to go over these things of the past, not only keeps them alive to you, but keeps your own complete self, connected as it was partly to them, alive too. This is important to me, too, as I realized as soon as my beloved Mom died and was gone, that no one I met from then on would be able to know her.

One last point: You used a phase, you "make no pretense of being a writer." I think that makes you a writer.

[JitterbugPerfume]

7. Thank you

you are very kind

[Shipwack]

6. For waht little it's worth,

...I liked it. As others have said, very poem like. It paints a good mental picture, and sets a tone.

[JitterbugPerfume]

8. Thank you

I have some poems in the poetry groups forum