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Steven Douglas Elwood

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Member Since: Aug, 2007

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The Woman
By Steven Douglas Elwood
Friday, August 17, 2007

Rated "G" by the Author.

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This is in memory of my Mother.

 

 

 

THE WOMAN

Her graying thick dark brown hair was always unruly. Her emerald eyes were always gleaming. Her face, though weathered and aged, was still beautiful. She had a quiet strength about her.

    The woman never wore makeup. She never would spend a dime on herself. She never even dated again since her husband died. Her every waking moment was for her children. I remember a story that was told about her through the years. In the 1950's she had to go to the principals office because her son Michael would not adhere to the dress code of the school. The dress code stated that all students must wear a tie. She was sitting there in the principals office. Sitting there with her stained blouse. (That was her trademark). She was arguing that Michael did comply with the rules, he had worn the tie.

"But Doris, he wore the tie around his waist."

 "So what?" she replied, "I have always taught my children to be individuals." As she said this, she crossed her legs in a ladylike fashion. Michael, who was sitting quietly in another chair in the office, put his head in his hands in embarrassment. As she had crossed her legs, she had exposed her socks from under her polyester pants revealing, one blue sock and one white sock. The principal noticed this, held up his hand and said,

"I understand Doris, I will consider this matter resolved." The next week the dress code was dropped from the curriculum.

   She never went out, unless it was to work in her large garden, or to watch the storms roll in with her youngest child. She loved to play games with the children. Every night she would read the bible to them. And she would question them to see what they thought of certain passages. She taught her children to have manners, to always say please and thank you. She always taught them to think for themselves, and to never just follow the crowd.

 One winter she had thrown her back out trying to pull the garage door up through the heavy snow. She was bedridden for a week. Her children had all pitched in. They did their chores. They went to school, and they cooked the meals. They took good care of her. Even the youngest would push a chair to the kitchen sink so he could reach to do the dishes. When she was finally able to get out of bed. She was so thankful to the children, she made four large cherry nut cakes. Each ball of dough lovingly rolled in her delicate hands. She carefully rolled the balls into the cinnamon sugar. Then layer by layer she would add the chopped nuts and cherries. The children thought this is what heaven must be like as they devoured the cakes. She sat watching, drinking her coffee with an angelic smile on her face.

Mrs. Doris Bell Elwood died of cancer in May of 2005, at the age of 79. I miss her terribly.

There are no words to express my sorrow from losing my mother.

 

 


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

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Reviewed by Dawn Elwood 3/12/2011
Oh Steve this piece captured your Mom's essence! Both Jim and I enjoyed it and Jim recalls the incident too, only both of you have different recollections of it. He recalls Michael getting in trouble for wearing his hair too long and NO belt. Who knows maybe he did wear a tie for a belt? Sounds so much like your Mom. We miss her too. You wouldn't believe the many times I think of her.

Great work!!!

Love
Dawn
Reviewed by Elizabeth Parsons 9/9/2007
You really got to me with this one, Steven. What a beautiful and loving tribute to your mom. Made me cry. I loved the part where she visits the principal. I could see it so plainly. Excellent! Elizabeth
Reviewed by Sister Deborah Young 8/22/2007
Steven: This was A MOST AWESOME WRITE! Thanks so much for sharing. (Smile) In His Greatest Love. Sis "D" A Servant of the Most High God.
Reviewed by Steven Elwood 8/18/2007
Jean,
Thank you very much. That means so much to me comming from a woman of your caliber.

STEVE
Reviewed by Jean Pike 8/18/2007
Steven, this story is absolutely beautiful. I love the small, telling details you have chosen to describe your mother--the stained blouse, the dough rolled in her delicate hands. She sounds like she was a wonderful person. The world needs more like her. I enjoyed this very much.
Jean




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