2.25.2015 Journal Prompts

Photo by Sally Mann
Photo by Sally Mann

February 25, 2015: In their pretty dresses…

One Reply to “2.25.2015 Journal Prompts”

  1. Kizzy is six and I am eight and a half and nearly eight and three quarters. Mam says I’m a big girl now and I have to look after Kizzy when mam’s at work. She says if I do it right then she’ll buy me a new dress and maybe some new shoes and if I like I can choose a ribbon for my hair. I know mam’s just saying all that and I know it won’t never come true. We ain’t got two pennies to rub together, which is what mam sometimes says when Kizzy asks for sweets or cola.

    And today I thought I did it better than all the other days before, looking after Kizzy. We had fun, me and Kizzy, and we wasn’t no trouble to no one. In the morning I read Kizzy stories from a book and we drank some milk and ate only one cookie. Then we washed and dressed and we wore our prettiest dresses. Kizzy kept dancing in front of the mirror and curtseying like she was someone meeting the Queen.

    We let the dog out the back so it could run off some energy in the yard and so it wouldn’t pee on the carpet in the house. The dog ain’t got no name ‘cept Dog and I used to think that was because we was too poor for to buy the dog a name. Pauline laughed when I said that and she called me silly and she said as how names for dogs is free. Pauline’s nine and I think maybe I’ll be clever like her when I am nine.

    After we’d eaten the sandwiches mam had made us for lunch – and I was sure to get Kizzy to eat her crusts like mam said she should – then we went out into the yard. Dog kept running up and licking Kizzy’s arm and then running away again. Boys do like that sometimes, only they don’t do licking, they pull the ends of my hair.

    Kizzy had one of mam’s bags with her and when we looked inside it wasn’t empty like we thought. Inside was mam’s make-up bag and mirror and brush. I thought then how I hadn’t brushed Kizzy’s hair like mam said I was to, and so I set at it with the brush. Kizzy complained cos her hair was knots and tangles. I told her it was important to look pretty now she was six. That’s when we got the idea to put on mam’s make up.

    ‘Git here, girl,’ mam said when she came home and she saw Kizzy playing in the yard and dancing to no music and looking like a doll with the red blusher I’d put on her cheeks. ‘Git here, girl.’

    I could tell mam was cross as wasps or whips and I ducked under the slap of her hand so at first she just hit air. I told her as how we had washed up the dishes we’d used and we’d made our beds and we’d let Dog into the garden like she said. Still mam hit me and she said I looked like a Saturday night whore, which I didn’t know what that was but which I reckoned must be something bad.

    We got us a second wash and mam was not gentle with the cloth and Kizzy kept crying and I was trying not to because I was nearly eight and three quarters and one day I would be nine. And I thought mam looked tired under her frown and her lips were pinched tight as if she was holding pins in her mouth. And I didn’t think then that I’d ever get a new dress or shoes, or even a bit of ribbon for my hair, not now or never, not even if I was ten.

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