| THE HANDKERCHIEF A short story by Charlotte Moody 2003 How I watched with impatience and bewilderment as she meticulously spread her handkerchief on her lap. Those, oh so familiar, pink and blue flower prints with the crocheted lace that always hangs off one corner. Repeatedly she spread it out with both her hands as if she was mentally ironing it with her warm hands. After she got it to the exact smoothness she needed, she began that painstaking journey of folding it. First, she folded it in half; once again, the “ironing” process took place. Then it is folded one more time, and “ironed” to achieve that final little square shape which affords it the perfect spot in her chest of drawers. It always amazes me that these perfect little squares seem to command the top drawer or as an absolute last resort, the second one, but never a bottom drawer. That would never do. There she tucks it away until that special occasion arises when she goes to that exclusive corner of her chest and brings it out to use; use? Does she “use” it? She dare not….for this would be the ultimate violation of such a beautiful accessory. She will clutch it in her frail hand so the crocheted lace can still be seen, or tuck it perfectly in her sleeve allowing, once more, the crocheted lace to protrude, ever so slightly, from the sleeve to rest gently on her wrist. Sometimes, that handkerchief nestles inside the bodice of her clothes, next to her breast where she finds comfort in knowing it’s there if she needs it. Now I begin to imagine the delicate “handkerchiefs” of my life. Oh, not literal ones, but the ones tucked away in my memory drawer. A first kiss, a first broken heart, and the first time someone made me feel special. What about that time I realized I was a woman responsible for a family? Where were those memories now? Aaa, yes…the memories of losing a child to death, marriages, more births, too many deaths, losses, relationships, vacations, holidays, birthdays, graduations, and the list of life goes on. Then I realized they are all perfectly folded and tucked away in that special “drawer” of my heart and life. I can go get them anytime I need to, anytime I want to and even those times I don’t want to visit that “drawer”, but life seems to compel me to do so. I can hold them close to my heart and relive them over and over again. On days when the pain of a memory is too overwhelming, I can place that memory at my wrist where only the “crocheted lace” of that memory shows; for to expose the whole “handkerchief” is not for this moment, not for this day. Oh, to have only blue and pink flowered memories that have been smoothed and folded so perfectly with the crocheted lace showing in all its crisp whiteness while sitting perfectly in that exclusive corner of that special drawer. But, alas, we all know some…or is it most, of our memories aren’t such. They have tattered edges, faded flowers, torn lace and they somehow never did get smoothed out, but were rather, thrown in any drawer of the chest along with other articles that did further damage to them. That is the reason why when we retrieve those “handkerchiefs” of our lives, we can never conform them to a smooth, pristine “handkerchief” again. By its very nature, it is a memory and will forever remain one. If we are to have beautifully pressed, smooth, perfectly folded “handkerchiefs” with there crocheted lace dangling delicately from one edge and tucked away in that special place, we must create them daily. They don’t come that way, they are produced by skilled, creative hands for our choosing. How I wish I had handled each of my choices of “handkerchiefs” with more consideration, tenderness and care. Then, when I tucked them ever so lovingly in that distinctive drawer of my life, I would never have to fear finding them damaged and in disarray when that particular occasion arose when I might need them. In the mean time, life is a succession of smoothing, folding and tucking away of “handkerchiefs”. In what condition will I find mine as I pull them out again and again? The End ©2006, Charlotte Moody All Rights Reserved. |
| Charlotte Moody is an award-winning gospel vocalist. She has graciously allowed me to publish some of her short stories here! |
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