Cathy's Creative Corner: When the Curtains Blow
Every Friday, for your reading pleasure, we will publish a short story by Catherine Lyons. Enjoy!
Nothing is more tranquil to me than an early morning breeze that makes the curtains blow. It’s like GOD breathing new life into my existence. It’s refreshing and it somehow whisks me away to a simpler time and place with no stress, no worries. Back to my childhood.
I hear Mama Ella coming. “Chatty, get on up. I need those eggs from the henhouse if you want breakfast.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply. Putting on the clothes from yesterday, I head outside. The kittens must’ve sensed I was about to make an appearance because they are all stationed on the back steps. “Morning, kitty kitties. How y’all doing today? Now move outta my way before I step on yo’ tails.” Carefully, I make it down the stairs. With a trail of kittens on my heels, I head across the yard to the chicken coop. My path is cut off when our big old bulldog comes strolling up. “How you doing today, Bull? I don’t want a ride right now. I’m getting Grandma some eggs for breakfast.” Ordinarily, every time I see Bull, I straddle his back and take a little ride. It’s getting to the point where I really can’t sit on him. I walk along with him between my legs and let him think he’s doing all the work. The chicken coop is built on the sloping side of the yard. At the bottom of the slope is a ditch that sometimes has a trickle of water. Must’ve rained last night, because today, it’s more like a little stream. The kittens drop back at this point.
Now… me and the chickens, we don’t really get along. I act like I’m not scared of them but those beaks look like it’d hurt if one of them was to take a jab at me. While most flap their wings and try to fly to get out of my way, there’s a few that act like they’re not scared of me either. I bet it was one of them that chased me into the smokehouse after Grandma chopped off its head. That headless chicken came at me like it could still see! The door to the smokehouse was open from when Grandma went in to get the ax, so I hopped in slamming the door behind me! I hid behind a barrel just in case the headless chicken came in looking for me. It seemed like a lifetime before my uncle came to retrieve me from the smokehouse. Today, all the hens are out in the coop. None are nesting in the henhouse. Makes it real easy for me to gather the eggs and head back to the house. As I head across the yard, I see the kittens have taken over the back steps again. That’s all right. I’ll go around to the front door.
“Mama Ella, here’s the eggs.” I hear her down the hall on the phone. Man, the coffee and bacon smell so good! Hope we’ve got applesauce, too. When I get old enough, I’ll drink coffee. Grandma won’t let me have any. She says it’s not good for me. I guess she hasn’t been drinking it long.
“’Bout time you got in here with those eggs,” Grandma says. “Now go hop in the tub, take your bath and put on some clean clothes. I’ll hold off on scrambling these eggs until you get ready.”
Once again, a nice breeze blows in through the kitchen window. This time I hear, “Grandma Chatty, you daydreaming again? I hope you remembered up a good ol’-fashioned breakfast.”
“It’s reminiscing, Baby. Reminiscing.”
