Thursday, November 11, 2010

Four Little Girls

There were once four little girls; four little girls who were very best friends. There was the responsible first born, the mischevious second born, the whimsical third born, and their independent baby sister. On Sundays, they went to church in pretty matching dresses and bows in their hair. They looked precious, but they were no porcellian dolls. Their father was a deacon, and sat on the front row; as all the deacons did in their church at that time. This meant the girls only had one set of eyes watching them, and they would take turns sneaking under the pew; without their mother noticing, and either fall asleep or play with people's shoes. They did many other mischievious things, especially the second born, who always had the best ideas to give her sisters. One Sunday, the Queen of Mischief sat with a friend, out of her mother's sight. All of the sudden, everyone in the church noticed this little beam of light, that looked like a small rainbow, bouncing off the walls. The mother of the little girls thought, "who would let their child do that?" The beam of light then found its way to the pastor, and one could hear bits of laughter throughout the congregation. The mother then looked four rows ahead of her, to her very own daughter with a small mirror in her hand! The little girls were proud of their sister while their parents were completely mortified. There were many Sundays their father would have the girls sit on the couch, and they'd have a serious talk. After talking about what they had done wrong, it was time to go to their grandmommy and granddaddy's house, where wrong just didn't happen. Granddaddy smiled at their mischief and would often encourage it. He built them a tree house and tire swing in the back yard. He had the biggest trees to climb and lots of grass to run on and play. They could be whoever they wanted to be in that yard, and after playing all day, they would come inside and their grandmommy would give them orange juice.
Every other day of the week, the girls' mother would cook wonderful meals, and she'd talk to her little helpers as they peeled carrots and chopped vegetables. She let them be little; which was very important, because she knew they'd eventually grow up. She allowed all parts of her house to be lived in. Sometimes it'd be full of forts and traps, while other times it would be a grand stage for the little girls to perform the plays they had prepared. The back yard was often a jungle, and their black cat was their mighty panther. The little girls loved their mother very much and wanted to be just like her. They'd wear her red lipstick and jewelry, and instead of getting angry, she told them how beautiful they were. Many mornings, the little girls would wake up to their mother playing the piano. They loved hearing her play. She always picked the most beautiful music and put so much emotion into each piece. Sometimes she'd play and the little girls would sing along. Their father wasn't annoyed by the distraction of four little voices singing, "If I Loved You," from The Carousel, when he had to bring work home. Instead he'd put his brief case down join his family in singing.
There were many nights when he'd come home after working late and the little girls would jump out of bed and run down the stairs to hug him. Though he was probably exhausted and hadn't even made it but through the door, he allowed his little girls to jump into his arms and hug him. On nights that he didn't go back to the office, he'd tell them stories, and every night he'd place his hand on their heads and pray over them a blessing.
The little girls experienced much together: friends, first loves, and broken hearts. When a younger sister went to college, the older would take care of her. The eldest married with her little sisters beside her, and then the second married, and they stood beside her as well. When their granddaddy passed away, they shared their tears, and when their big sister became a mother, they shared her joy. They didn't get to spend every holiday together anymore, but it didn't matter, because they had a bond no one could describe. The years had passed, and the little girls did as all little girls do, they became young women.

By. Rebecca Houston

2 comments:

  1. Thank you so much Rebecca! This perfectly captured the love of our family! I too cried- I miss you all...

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