"Child in a Straw Hat"- oil on canvas by Mary Cassatt (1844-1926)
I offer you a short story for Easter. Enjoy.
As a nonagenarian, I am often asked to recall memories from my past; and like most non-nonagenarians, I can recall in vivid details some events while others are cast in a fog. Most of my memories are joyful recollections, but a few are memories of disappointment.
One of my first memories as a little girl took place at Eastertide. I remember traveling with my parents on a trip to visit my maternal grandmother, who we called Oma. We lived in the city and Oma lived in the country about 100 miles away from us in rural Pennsylvania. Oma lived on a farm with horses, a cow, pigs, chickens, and barn cats. Easter must have been very late that year, because I remember walking with my mother and Oma through a field of daisies to get to the creek where we cut fresh asparagus under a large willow tree. It was warm enough that I took off my shoes and waded in the creek.
When we returned from the creek with a mess of asparagus cut for Easter lunch and a bouquet of daisies for the table, Oma and I headed for the barn. While Oma was milking Dottie, the cow, Mouser the mother cat arrived with two adorable kittens. After Oma squirted milk from Dottie's tit into the mouths of the trio, I gently cuddled the two kittens and asked Oma if I could take one home with me. She responded, “Yes, of course, if your Mom and Dad will allow it.” When we returned from the barn, I begged Mom for permission to have a kitten for my very own. She said, “we will have to see, I must have a discussion with your Dad. We will let you know after church on Sunday.” I couldn’t wait to get back to the barn to play with the kittens and to decide which of the two to take for my own.
On Saturday, I remember hearing Oma sing “In your Easter bonnet, with all the frills upon it…” and she showed me the new felt bonnet she had bought for me to wear with my new dress on Easter morning to church. I hated it, but I loved one of Oma’s straw hats that was hanging on the coat rack at the front door. I convinced Oma to let me try it on and that we could dress it up by wrapping a bold black and white scarf around the top of the hat. Oma agreed, but Mom disliked the idea and preferred the felt bonnet. I stomped my foot and declared, “I will not go to church unless I can wear the straw hat!” Mom glanced at Dad with a surprised look, and to my delight, Dad convinced Mom that I looked “darling” in the straw hat and should be allowed to wear it. Mom acquiesced.
When we returned from church on Easter morning, I ran to the barn to make my choice between the calico kitten and the tawny one. Just as I chose the calico, Mom appeared with the news that she and Dad had decided that the kitten must remain with Oma on the farm. I was heartbroken and greatly disappointed.
Now as I approach my…how old am I?...ninety first birthday, I think of my great granddaughter Ave, and I wish that she could be swept back with me to Oma’s farm to wade in the creek, run through the field of daisies, and to cuddle a calico kitten. But, alas, I can only share my memories. So today, I hope to talk to Ave and I will share with her my favorite poem by Shelley and will assure her that I remain that little child in a straw hat.
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley
CPW
P.S.
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