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[OOM: Conversations with Dead People]
Oct. 31st, 2011 08:48 pmIt's the voice she recognizes. Not the tall, imposing blonde-haired woman bent over her stove in a calico dress. Not the unmusical sound of her clomping and stamping around the kitchen, or the severe frown on her face.
The way she filled a room with the sound of a spiritual - the low, moaning dirge of a woman unhappy in station and in her life. A good girl, with rosy cheeks and a vacant smile.
She can smell the dusting of flour on her apron, somehow. "Come here, child. Stay warm, stay dry."
Dixie rests her head on the woman's pendulous breast, her eyes half-closed. "Why did you go? I wasn't nearly ready."
She ran a hand over her daughter's curls, gently. "When a lady's called on to a higher station, she can't just say no."
"I think I needed you more," Dixie pointed out.
Her mother chortled. "Child, never, but never, say no to the Lord. You'll regret it." She winced. "But," continues her mother, "sometimes we simply can't plan for the vagueness of living. The Lord," she said, "plants us all where we belong."
"So that's all you have to say?" she asked. "Just give myself over to fate? Well, that's a fine idea! If I'd done that, I'd still be with Doc!"
Christ has risen, Christ will come again...
"Why won't you listen to me?!" she cried out, an offended child. Grabbing her mother's shoulder, she whirled her about and...
***
...She awoke in a silk-covered bed, drenched with sweat, her heart racing. It was an odd, callow comfort, seeing her mother again. Proof she'd made the right decision in fighting, and a reminder that she should - and could- never give up.
The way she filled a room with the sound of a spiritual - the low, moaning dirge of a woman unhappy in station and in her life. A good girl, with rosy cheeks and a vacant smile.
She can smell the dusting of flour on her apron, somehow. "Come here, child. Stay warm, stay dry."
Dixie rests her head on the woman's pendulous breast, her eyes half-closed. "Why did you go? I wasn't nearly ready."
She ran a hand over her daughter's curls, gently. "When a lady's called on to a higher station, she can't just say no."
"I think I needed you more," Dixie pointed out.
Her mother chortled. "Child, never, but never, say no to the Lord. You'll regret it." She winced. "But," continues her mother, "sometimes we simply can't plan for the vagueness of living. The Lord," she said, "plants us all where we belong."
"So that's all you have to say?" she asked. "Just give myself over to fate? Well, that's a fine idea! If I'd done that, I'd still be with Doc!"
Christ has risen, Christ will come again...
"Why won't you listen to me?!" she cried out, an offended child. Grabbing her mother's shoulder, she whirled her about and...
***
...She awoke in a silk-covered bed, drenched with sweat, her heart racing. It was an odd, callow comfort, seeing her mother again. Proof she'd made the right decision in fighting, and a reminder that she should - and could- never give up.
