Ribbons

 

A week ago, Shelly would have never been caught dead in a dress. Before the accident, she always said dresses were for sissies and then promptly jumped in a mud puddle. Carefully I watched as her mother straightened her hair and collar. Determined to make sure for once her daughter would look presentable, she pulled a comb out of her purse to attack a small snarl. Everyone was gone now, except for me, Shelly, and her mother. Feeling forgotten about, I shifted slightly to get a better view from under the tablecloth where I was hiding. Gone were the days when Shelly would pull out the pink ribbons from my hair. How I loved those ribbons. I would always get in trouble for coming home soiled and missing ribbons and such. “Julianne!” my mother would shout, “You must take better care of yourself, clothes are expensive and I will not keep dressing you properly if you insist on looking like a slob!” Keeping to my hiding spot I saw Shelly’s mother fidgeting with her again. Lovingly, she straightened the necklace Shelly was wearing. Mothers must all be the same, I thought, and then wondered if Shelly’s mother yelled at her for being soiled too. Not that it mattered anymore. Once today ended Shelly’s mother wouldn’t ever have to worry about Shelly being too dirty or soiled again. People were beginning to drift back into the room I was hiding in. Quietly I crept back against the wall, afraid to be seen, afraid someone would realize I wasn’t really thinking of Shelly at all, but of soiled ness and mud puddles and ribbons. Ribbons, I could hardly believe that I would be able to wear ribbons again, and dresses and not get picked on. Smiling to myself at that revelation, I leaned against the wall and began to imagine all the colors of ribbon my mother would buy me now that Shelly wouldn’t steal them anymore and she could trust me with them all assortments of them. Truth be told I don’t really think I felt sorry for Shelly at all. Unless of course someone asked me how I felt then I knew the right answer was, “Oh yes, it’s awful what happened Shelly and I were good friends at school. She was always nice.” Very few people caught onto my lie, really only my other friends at school. We know that we aren’t sorry she is gone. XOXO’s covered the cards we sent to her family but secretly we hated her as only a 6-year-old could.

Years later I would think back over this memory and regret how I felt about Shelly and my misunderstanding of death, even at such a young age. Zipping up my jacket on a brisk fall morning, I finally made peace with Shelly, 15 years later, over an old, small grave with a bouquet of flowers, tired up with the prettiest pink ribbon I could find.

Reviews

[Blindmikey]

This is really well written. As If I've just been dropped into another's mind.
Flowing as naturally as my own thoughts, but with the colors of someone else's memories. Grudge is a funny thing. The symptom of large misunderstanding and perhaps a waste of passion, passion better spent in empathy . Your write helps reveal that, and the ending shows us what we already know we must do; yet not with a hard slap, but softly through the humility of your own pasts.

A beautiful write.

[Dawn Jones]

I love your use of discription... it colored the story so well. I could actually remember what it felt like being the child hiding under the table at the funeral... although I was hiding for many different reasons. I remember what it was like to hate with a 6 year old heart and how I have come past all those emotions as I have grown. Putting to rest the grudges against all the other girls who treated me unfairly... though I did all that at 14... I still remember the feelings. This was amazingly written. You are utterly inspiring.

[Rain]

Wow,
This one got me. The cruelty of youth and ignorance combined. It wasn't just you. Who at that age can grasp death ? But, your heart felt amends. The admittance of your naiveness in another time, was so touching. I don't usually feel this way about a write, but there was such a touching poignancy to your piece, I was truly moved. It was a courageous write, and says alot about who you became. Beautiful. Rain..