On the Inside Looking Out: Second Chance

“Can a person’s life change so much that they’re literally reborn as someone else?”
“Brea, sit still,” shouted Roberta over and over as she straightens Brea’s hair in the new kitchen of their new home. This had become a weekly routine for Brea and her mother, in preparation for church services on Sunday. Brea as always, is fidgety today because she wants to be outside playing, or reading, or painting, or riding her bike to the old country store not far away. But for the next hour or so she will sit by the stove in the big kitchen while her mom chattered away about the latest town gossip, and how to behave in church tomorrow. The confinement of this made Brea feel deep in her soul the demeaning value of this process, how her head was bent deep into her chest, no eye contact, no pride in the way she was born. At an early age she could not understand why her hair had to be straightened, and transformed into slick back greasy pigtails. Brea’s natural thick coarse tresses were a crown of springy coils that danced in the wind when she ran and played like a hat of hair being tossed back and forth. Brea hated with a passion sitting in this position with her head bowed and her pride diminished, but Roberta relished the sweetness of the routine. Spending, what Brea felt to be agonizing moments. Not because of the physical pains from the heat of the straightening comb being too close to her skin, but moments later on in life she realized to be non-teaching, times that if she had been taught the ways of a woman she would have been a better woman, a better wife, a better mother, a better grandmother. But Brea knew to sit still or a lot more than the skin near her face would cry out.
Brea pondered the idea that maybe she was a re-incarnation of someone else.

Posted 6 Years Ago

I find this well written and engaging. Especially, I love stories about real people being themselves and dealing with life.

Posted 6 Years Ago

“Can a person’s life change so much that they’re literally reborn as someone else?”
“Brea, sit still,” shouted Roberta over and over as she straightens Brea’s hair in the new kitchen of their new home. This had become a weekly routine for Brea and her mother, in preparation for church services on Sunday. Brea as always, is fidgety today because she wants to be outside playing, or reading, or painting, or riding her bike to the old country store not far away. But for the next hour or so she will sit by the stove in the big kitchen while her mom chattered away about the latest town gossip, and how to behave in church tomorrow. The confinement of this made Brea feel deep in her soul the demeaning value of this process, how her head was bent deep into her chest, no eye contact, no pride in the way she was born. At an early age she could not understand why her hair had to be straightened, and transformed into slick back greasy pigtails. Brea’s natural thick coarse tresses were a crown of springy coils that danced in the wind when she ran and played like a hat of hair being tossed back and forth. Brea hated with a passion sitting in this position with her head bowed and her pride diminished, but Roberta relished the sweetness of the routine. Spending, what Brea felt to be agonizing moments. Not because of the physical pains from the heat of the straightening comb being too close to her skin, but moments later on in life she realized to be non-teaching, times that if she had been taught the ways of a woman she would have been a better woman, a better wife, a better mother, a better grandmother. But Brea knew to sit still or a lot more than the skin near her face would cry out.
Brea pondered the idea that maybe she was a re-incarnation of someone else.

Posted 6 Years Ago