I’ve added the next few pieces of the journal to my sight if you’d like to read them.
Non-fiction / Life Journal 2
The Big Couch
There are a few memories I have about the first house we ever lived in. What I mostly remember was that while we lived there I had the most happy and innocent days of my life. Back then I still worshiped the ground my mother walked on and I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to be as tall as her. I wanted to have her hair. I wanted to wear her clothes, unfortunately at times I felt like this was a small source of irritation to her:
Tisha woke up early in the morning in her new house, joy lighting her eyes as she laid there and watched the sun stream across the ceiling. It was another new day in the new house and she wanted to get up and have fun all over again. She and her family had been in the house a few weeks already and it was a Saturday morning. School had been in for only a week and it was her first Saturday off.
Saturday mornings during the school year were usually spent over her grandmother’s house or over her cousins’ houses so she was excited to be home with her mom and Larry. She tip-toed to the door and peaked out. Her mother and Larry had fallen asleep in the living room last night. As usual they’d stayed up to play a game of cribbage and have a few drinks late into the night.
She sighed and went back to her bed and lay down. From past experience Tisha had learned not to waken her mother before her mother was ready to be woken. Sandra and Larry both were not really morning people. So she sat and waited. As time often seems to the mind of a young child, to her it seemed like an eternity she waited. In reality it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes.
Larry must have felt the sensation of someone watching him in his sleep for he slowly stirred and lifted his head with only one blue eye open to look at her. Tisha came to the door with a hopeful look in her eye. His forehead scrunched up as he looked at her.
“Letisha, what are you doing there starring at us,” he asked. Tisha felt her hope fade instantly. Whenever her mother or Larry used her full name it usually indicated that she had done something wrong.
“I was just waiting for you. It’s morning,” she whispered back.
“Well do something else, play with your toys or something and shut the door,” he replied angrily before his blond head fell back to the pillow where he slept on the couch.
Slowly she pushed her door closed. How long could those people possibly sleep? It was morning already and she wanted to help her mother or Larry make breakfast. They always took turns cooking. If Larry was going to cook they would be having potatoes sliced long ways and fried with bacon and ketchup, and if her mother cooked they would most likely be having bacon and cheese grits. Either option was much better than cereal which was her general staple every other morning of the week.
She waited by the door to see if she would hear any other movement out in the living room. When none came she slowly and quietly turned the door knob again, pulling the door open just wide enough to look out of. She peeked out very carefully, hoping that since Larry had already lifted his head once he might get up.
There was no movement or sound coming out of the living room except the sound of soft snores and the rise and fall of sleeping chests. She waited again at that crack in the door for any hint that they might be awake. Her mother was sleeping on the couch that Tisha couldn’t see from her bedroom door but she could still hear her gentle snoring.
“Letisha,” she heard the exasperated rasp come from Larry and when she looked back to see that both of his eyes were open and he was looking at her angrily she quickly closed the door and went in for good. Larry would only allow her to go so far before she got in trouble so she knew that the door would stay closed until either her mother or Larry came to open it.
She became angry with herself because if she had been able to just lay there quietly until one of them woke up she would have been allowed to help with breakfast, or if she had left her door closed the first time he told her to play in her room quietly she would have been allowed to come out when she heard people moving around in the living room. Now she risked bodily harm to open that door without permission.
She felt dejected as she sat down in front of her closet and slid open the door. There, at the bottom of the closet, was her treasure chest. It was filled with every Barbie, every piece of play dough, every crayon and pencil, every book and stuffed animal she had collected through the years. She loved and treasured everything in the box, some things more than others, and whenever she opened the box it was like greeting an old friend.
First she pulled out the book called the playful puppy and looked over the words. She didn’t know the words that well but her mother would read it to her sometimes. She liked the pictures of the puppy, but because she couldn’t read it it lost her attention very quickly.
Setting the book beside her on the floor she pulled out a Barbie and a stuffed animal shaped like a dragon. She put the Barbie astride the dragon and lifted her little plastic arm.
“Princes Perryweather found herself in the midst of the deepest darkest swamp with no hope of rescue,” she said as her mind painted her bedroom floor into a deep mucky swampland. “She sat astride the dragon who the evil which had put a spell on so he would forget how to fly. So they walked for days and days with no food and no water,” she said, taking the stubby legs of the dragon and making it walk across the floor. The Barbie accidentally fell off and Tisha tried putting her back on again.
The Barbie wouldn’t stay on unless she was holding her and she couldn’t make the dragons feet walk if she was holding the Barbie so she let the Barbie fall as she continued her narrative. “Suddenly as they were walking along trying to find home Princess Perryweather fell from the back of the dragon and fell down, down, down into the abyss of the swamp. ‘Help me, help me,’ she screamed when suddenly,” she paused as she pulled a big stuffed bear from the toy box.
“Prince Canon came to the rescue. Yeah,” Tisha cheered loudly.
“Letisha,” she heard Larry yell from the living room and she knew she’d been too loud.
“Sorry,” she called out and swept her dolls aside feeling like her game was now ruined. She sat on the floor with her back to the wall and waited. She waited for her parents to make the next move. She imagined that she was a prisoner in the deepest hole tied to the wall by chains.
She put her arms up on either side of her and pretended like her arms were shackled to the wall. She lolled her head from side to side as if she had been there for days. “Please… water,” she whispered and pretended that the bear who had been the hero a moment ago was now a sleeping uncaring fat prison guard.
Tisha stopped playing for a moment as she heard movement in the other room. She wanted to go crack the door but she was a coward when it came to pain and would do anything to avoid a whipping. She went to the door and leaned her ear against it. All she could hear were the muffled sounds of Larry and her mother talking, but if they were talking they were awake. She did a silent little happy dance and then waited.
“Tisha,” she heard her mother call and was out of her room nearly before her mother had finished the last syllable. She bounded onto the couch where her mother had been sleeping and fell into her mother’s arms. Her mother smiled down at her and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“Hey kiddo. You’re up early this morning,” she commented as she held her.
“Na uh mama, you guys slept a really really long time and I was waiting for you to wake up. I thought you were going to sleep forever,” she said as she held on to her mother. She loved the smell of her mother, how pretty and soft her face was.
Her mother was not a tall woman by most people’s standards. She barely made five feet, but to Tisha she was the biggest strongest woman in the world. Her hair was messy at the moment but Tisha loved it when her mother pulled her hair back in a ponytail with a pretty clip or when she curled it out and it made a pretty bell shape around her face. Tisha reached up to stroke her mother’s face and her mother pulled away.
“Don’t put your hands in my face, I don’t know if you washed your hands after you went to the bathroom,” she said.
This made Tisha laugh. “Mama,” she said long and drawn out.
Sandra couldn’t help but to smile at her own joke. “Well I don’t. You could have been digging in your butt and then you came to touch my face. You could have been picking your nose,” she replied again. Her mother knew just what to say to get her laughing hysterically.
Larry was already up and in the kitchen when Tisha remembered that she wanted to help with breakfast. She wiggled out of her mother’s arms and ran to the kitchen. She pushed a chair over near the counter where Larry was getting things ready. She stood up on the chair so she could see what he was going. He had the sharp knife and was slicing the potatoes long ways just like she liked. He sliced them thin but not too thin.
Larry was Polish and often made Polish dishes for dinner and breakfast. She always pulled a chair up and stood there to watch him when he cooked. For dinner he made things with foreign names that she couldn’t remember but that she loved to taste. There were stuffed bell peppers, Kielbasa and Sauerkraut, Sauerkraut and pork roast, cabbage wrapped sausage in tomato sauce, and many other dishes similar to that. She loved to watch him cook because sometimes it seemed more like he was making art than food.
“Can I help,” she asked. He wouldn’t give her the sharp knife to cut the potatoes but he did give her the potato peeler so she could peel a few potatoes. It took her longer to peel the potatoes than it did for him to cut the potatoes but he didn’t take the peeler from her. He waited patiently while she peeled one before he cut it up and added it to the frying grease.
Soon breakfast was ready and they brought the fried potatoes and bacon out to her mother. She had already cleaned up the blankets and was reading a book on the big couch when they came in. She put her book down and smiled in appreciation. The food smelled good. Tisha brought out the plates and tried to sit on the big couch between her mother and Larry.
“You know that you can’t sit up here,” her mother admonished. It was a rule and Tisha knew it well. She was not allowed to sit on the big couch, especially while they were eating. It never occurred to her that she was told not to sit up here and eat because she couldn’t reach the table and thusly spilled food all over the floor.
She had thought the big couch was for big people and the little couch was for little people. She sighed and moved around the coffee table and sat on the floor facing the table. This was where she ate most of her meals, when she wasn’t in trouble and forced to eat in the kitchen alone at the ugly white kitchen table.
There were certain eating blunders that would quickly get her sent to the kitchen table to eat alone. 1) Eating with her mouth open. She forgot this rule easily and the very same moment the smacking noise hit Larry’s ears she was sent to the table. 2) Scraping the plate with her fork. She was usually allowed one or two mistaken scrapes, but more than that and it was instant table time. 3) Using her fingers to push the food on the fork. According to Larry there is no point using a fork if you are going to put your fingers in the plate any ways. The first time he said this she agreed and began to use her fingers to eat. Why use a fork? It only made things more difficult. Larry didn’t see her reasoning, however, and this earned her a night in bed with no dinner at all.
Fortunately this breakfast fell under the category of a food she was allowed to eat with her fingers. Larry still ate it with a fork but her mother didn’t. Tisha did her best to parrot her mother in everything. The way she walked, the way she talked, and the way she ate. Her mother took the fried potato and wrapped it around a piece of bacon and ate it like a taco, so Tisha did the same. Tisha loved the combination of bacon and potato in her mouth. She was always looking for the best combination of foods to put in her mouth.
When they ate dinner the fair usually included some type of meat, some type of starch, and some type of vegetable, and Tisha would take a bite of all three and try to mix and match for the best flavor. She did this, of course, because she’d seen her mother do it. After they cleaned up from breakfast and came back into the living room Tisha tried again to sit beside her mother on the couch where she had resumed reading. She looked over at her daughter.
“Letisha,” she said in that way and Tisha huffed and lifted herself off the couch and went around the coffee table to sit on the floor. She would rather sit on the floor than to be labeled the baby who sits on the short couch. How come they could sit on the little couch, but she couldn’t sit on the big couch. It just didn’t seem fair to her.
She crawled over and turned on the Saturday morning cartoons and put her head in her hands as she laid on her belly and looked up into the television.
“Back away from the TV,” her mother reprimanded like she so often did. Tisha wondered if she really could ruin her eyes by sitting close. How was it that grownups knew things like that? Did her mother really know someone who had ruined their eyes by sitting too close to the TV?
She had learned not to question her mother when she gave commands in that tone so she scooted back a few feet and laid there watching TV. She watched the cartoon characters move across the screen and felt her irritation begin to subside a little but she didn’t understand why she couldn’t sit on the big couch. She wanted to ask again but if she began an argument with her mother it might mean loosing her TV privileges, and she wouldn’t do that until her favorite Saturday morning cartoons were over.
By the time the cartoons were over though, she forgot the question and stood up to ask her mother if she could go out to play. It sounded like the other kids in the neighborhood where done watching cartoons as well and had immerged to play. Tisha still hadn’t gotten up the courage to actually talk to her neighbors yet, but she was sure if they saw her outside enough they would invite her over so she didn’t want to miss her chance.
“Stay in the yard and don’t loose that jump rope. I just bought it for you,” her mother said but Tisha was out the door before she finished her last word.
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
AutumnDragon reviewed Version 2 -
Read 100% of the Item
I enjoyed the second part of your journal, just as much as the first. This piece gives more insight into Tisha’s home life with her mother and Larry, plus her relationship with both of them.
I’ll be reading the third entry as soon as I get the chance. Keep it up.
- add/view comments (0)
Guts reviewed Version 2 -
Read 100% of the Item
Overall it was well written.
Very well written,infact, I loved you choice of words.
It was lovely.
Be that as it may it was not my cup of tea.
It didnt exactly hold my intrest the way I would have liked. But thats purely me, I’m not to fond of the genre. Thats all that was….but I will be one of those and speak for others who might, “I’m sure people into this sort of thing will eat this up!”
Good Job
spiritualdeciple reviewed Version 2 -
Read 10% of the Item
This was avery enjoable read, I am trying to write my first bio fictional novel, but been a poetry writer I’m finding it hard could you read and review my first attempt on here ‘Polly Anne’s Pony’ and tell me what you think ??
garfocus reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
The difficult thing about reading a portion of a story is that the author’s intent is not always clear. I had that issue with this segment. I enjoyed the reading and as the father of three children I thought the point of view was excellent. You have great insight into the mind of a child. I was waiting for that gripping hook to pull the reader into the storyline. I am very anxious to hear what challenge the characters are going to face in this story. An allusion to the main storyline in the first chapter keeps me interested and reading on. This is not a negative commentary, it is motivated by curiosity. I did enjoy the reading and the certain amount of tension that was created by the interaction between Tisha and her parents. Obviously, you need to do a lot of proofreading. This is easy enough to do and makes the reading that much easier. Overall, I liked the read.
derekosborne reviewed Version 1 -
Read 100% of the Item
Hmmmm. I’ll let other people tell you about the minor spelling and grammar issues. This is well written, clear, developed and yet nothing really happens. I did not find any dramatic tension in the piece, so I’m wondering if it comes later. Did something happen in Part 1? If it did I think I would have gotten some sense of continuity here, but I didn’t. Where are you going with this? It was a lot of words for so little to happen. I kept waiting for Latisha to suddenly go nuts and kill one of them. Is that what happens?. Is her mother a ticking bomb who explodes on page 12? According to the title this is non-fiction, but something has to grab the reader or there’s no point. Let’s see page 12.
Showing 1 - 5 of 5
Review item
Add to favesCreator
Relevant Links
Item Stats
GENERAL
3 Reviews 3 Comments
Version 2
Latest Activity: about 1 month ago
REVIEW QUEUE
Appeared in Queue: 24 Times
Skipped: 0 Times
Ratings & Rankings
Versions
| Version 2 | Version 1 (Deleted) |