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A quote: “In every conceivable manner, the family is link to our past, bridge to our future.” ~~ Alex Haley
I’ll start with a story …
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“That’s the last plate. Everything washed and put away, dear.”
“Been a quiet Thankgiving now the boys are grown. I kind of miss the chaos.”
“I know, Randall deployed overseas and Ralph a few states away because of career opportunities … but I’m so proud of them.”
“Me, too. Just …. Here, let’s take our wine into the living room and snuggle in front of the fire.”
“Sounds like a plan! Remember, Ralph and family will be here for Christmas. The chaos will return.”
“Well, some of it. It sure has been quiet since the Bumpuses next door moved out.”
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe stock standard license
Cameron says: My brother and I got to cleaning in the kitchen as the guests chatted animatedly with my parents. We worked quietly to avoid drawing attention to ourselves.
“Why are you doing the cleaning?” came a voice from just outside the kitchen. I turned to face the speaker and smiled.
“It’s fine, my lady. Please don’t trouble yourself-”
She quickly volunteered to help and things were done quickly. She smiled happily. “Your household has been kind to ours. I would be remiss if I didn’t help out in some way.”
The fae are strange but they do love my mother’s cooking.
The whole Alandale household was surprised when Elaine was happy to take her turns loading the dishwasher, even after Thanksgiving dinner. But then they all took it for granted that a modern kitchen would be equipped with a dishwasher. They’d never seen her grandparents’ house with the huge old-fashioned cast-iron sink.
Elaine still remembered when she hit the age that a girl was expected to take her place among the womenfolk of the family, helping to wash and dry the many dishes after Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma’s house. Always a tomboy, she’d been having a great time exchanging stories of outdoor exploits with her cousins when her mother ordered her into the kitchen. Her protests about there being plenty of help in the kitchen already and wanting to hear her cousins’ stories were met with dire warnings of trouble when she got home.
And trouble there had been. A spanking would’ve been almost easier than day after day of having to help with the dishes — and just to drive the point home, her mother had insisted on doing them by hand, making Elaine dry each glass and plate and utensil one by one while the dishwasher stood idle. The dishwasher that her father had installed last winter, with no small amount of effort, which made it all the more clear that this was a punishment.
It had been right about the time her annual visits to Aunt Kate and her family had ended, about the time attitudes had changed from “the experiments were wrong, but the people who were touched by them are innocent victims” to “the products of Frankenstein science must not think themselves better than they are.” So she’d thought the days of punishment had been about driving home her suddenly lowered status, so she’d know her place.
Only after she’d gotten out here and one of the teachers at the Montessori high school had talked about essentialism vs. population thinking had Elaine realized what had actually been going on. In the eyes of the women of the family, she was becoming a young woman, and therefore must be firmly guided to accept and embrace the role that came stapled to it. Even if she’d had the language to explain about extreme outliers, it probably would’ve been met with hostility for the simple reason that her family had no idea they were using a different mental system of categorization.
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