AS IF MAKING AN APOLOGY

past a row of rockers two small heads popped out looking at her eye to eye. Hair bleached blond and rosy tan faces and dark eyes glaring with anticipation. They ducked down fast as to not let anyone see them. Violet walked around the end of the porch but at last the children were gone.

Whose children were they? Maybe the old lady that lived there, Violet had no idea.

On to the back yard she went trying to figure out what happened to the children and where the old woman everyone called Grandmother was.

Violet stumbled on to a little skinny woman chopping wood, where she found her dressed in an old torn plaid dress and white hair and boy oh boy could she sling an ax.

Then she saw the children running through the trees off in the distance.

She came here because she was told the old woman knew her mother. It had been years, Violet was tired she just had to know.

All she knew was what the ladies at the orphanage had told her. She had been dropped off with a note that she couldn’t be taken care of any longer. She lived at the orphanage all her life. She was never loved by anyone and no one ever came to claim her. She remembered sitting at the window and day dreaming that God would send her mom to get her and tell her she made a mistake; that she was really loved.

Years later after getting the police report it had been reported that possibly but it could never be proven that Old woman Doris Felton knew all about her.

She felt a lump in her throat. She was scared. What if this lady wouldn’t talk to her?

Finally Grandmother noticed her.

“What do you want? “She demanded. Her face looked sunburn and rugged with lines of time.

“My name is Violet; I think I am your granddaughter.” Violet stood there shaking wanting to be accepted wanting this woman to love her. Plus she needed answers.

Violet Oh Violet

Where is your heart?

Is it to be broken?

Forever my dear

There is no one

To be there for you

Violet Oh Violet

Like a flower you are

The scent of you

Is becoming worldwide

Your time on this earth

Is of ideal grace

Violet oh Violet

You are once in a lifetime.

The old woman just stared at her and under her breath she yelled, “Your no granddaughter of mine! Get off my property!”

Violet’s heart was broken. She was near tears why was she being treated like this. This was her whole life.

“I was told you were probably the woman that took me to the orphanage twenty years ago. Please talk to me. I need to know.” Violet’s voice was cracking with tears. The pain she was feeling was tearing her alive.

The old woman looked at her in surprise.

“Twenty years ago you say?” She looked at Violet and saw the tears. “Come with me.”

The old woman walked into the house and Violet followed her.

The house was old and dirty and torn looking it matched the old woman perfectly.

“Sit.” The old woman demanded.

Violets choose not to. There seemed to be nowhere to sit, plus it was awfully dirty.

“You miss goody two shoes or something? Look I will say this once. You looked like you would be the baby I took twenty years ago to the orphaned. But I will not testify to that. Your Mother my daughter was raped and after she had you she killed herself. So I took you where I knew you would be taken care of. Now go away.”

The old woman looked at her white shocked face and stated, “I make no apologies for what I did. Look at you; you are alive and well fed. So much better than I could do for you so now go away. And let me die in peace.”

Violet oh Violet

Questions you may have

Life is a love

That beholds a sphere

With a greater light than you

Now death can come

With your eyes to heaven

With darkness you cannot see

Violet oh Violet

Oh inspiring beauty

The path of sand that

Rose beneath your feet

Now taken away from the

Spirit of your life

Violet left with a whole lot of questions but with answers too.

A month later Violet went back to see her grandmother and found out she had died.

Again another whole in her heart

©Copyright 2012 by POET DEBORAH BROOKS-LANGFORD

PLEASE NOTE THIS IS FICTION…

Books & Writing by

^{Deborah Brooks-Langford}

• My Heart I give by Deborah Brooks Langford

• Debbie's Blog

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• Debbie Brooks on Wizzley - Poetry, Short Stories and interesting articles by Deborah.
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• The Prayer Page

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