Storytime Tapestry Newsletter

The newsletter devoted to spreading love and cultural awareness around the world.

March 11, 2008

 Today’s Announcement

Don’t forget to order your copy of Angels Watching Over Me, the story of an ordinary woman facing less than ordinary challenges.  Angels Watching Over Me is a story of family love, sacrifices, poverty and an undying faith that makes heroes out of all of us. Here is the link in case you have forgotten it: http://www.lulu.com/content/964306

Important notice: Storytime Tapestry is a free e-zine, however donations are always needed to help with the operating expenses of running the newsletter and to keep Storytime Tapestry the quality newsletter you are so accustomed to.   You can make your donations to paypal at: winterose@videotron.ca, or if you would prefer to use the mail system contact the publisher at the same email address: winterose@videotron.ca

Today’s Stories

NIGHT WANDERINGS

April Lipscomb

She had clung to her anger all day wearing it like a shield of armor. She wrapped it tightly around her and carried on with her day. The anger was necessary, it hid the pain. This wasn't a serious heartbreak but it sill hurt. Maybe she didn't have a right to be hurt, maybe she was the selfish one. Just two little words, why couldn't he offer her a simple little Birthday wish? How difficult was it to say "Happy Birthday?" It wasn't like he had forgotten; she had received several greetings throughout the day from friends. No, he knew what day it was, they had spoke of it the day before. She didn't expect flowers or a cake or even a dinner, just two words. Now the day was finished and she was going to sleep, she was sleeping on the sofa tonight! Sleep came quickly, anger is an exhausting emotion.

She heard movement at the front door, thinking it was one of the dogs she prepared to roll over and go back to sleep but then the motion detector came on. Next came the distinct sound of the door knob turning, a quick glance confirmed this; someone was indeed turning the knob. She wondered how this was possible as the storm door was always locked. She knew from everything she had ever heard on the topic of security that she shouldn't open the door. She knew she should run and get her husband from the back bedroom but she was frozen in fear. Blackness began to envelop the area; she could no longer see the front door. Still frozen to the spot, the blackness took form. Long limbs became distinct as one reached out and touched her hair very close to her cheek. She felt its skin as it brushed her face and instantly picked up a faint metallic odor. Her long red hair instantly turned white at its touch, she opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out, she fainted dead away.

Within minutes she awoke, a quick scan of the area confirmed that the figure had gone. She ran in a panic to the room where her spouse lay sleeping. Reaching him she screamed his name over and over injecting her pleas for help. Cocooned in his blankets he rolled over and told her she was fine, she couldn't get him to help. Now frantic she began clawing at his covers, "someone has broken in, I need you!" she hysterically pleaded. Grasping the blankets in both hands she gave a big tug. The roll loosened, the blankets came free. Upon pulling them free she saw the form was not her husband after all but the intruder. She gave up and fell in a heap upon the cold hard wood floor.

Warm sloppy kisses wash her face; the girls are saying Good Morning. She opens her eyes and winces at the sunlight streaming through the blinds. The girls are happily wagging their tails. It time to open the door and let them run. It was all just a goofy dream "come on girls, lets go potty" she sings to her canine babies. Passing the mirror in the foyer she catches a glimpse of herself and immediately notes her now, snow white hair.

By: Apryl Lipscomb 2008©

Imladybug270@aol.com

 ~**~**~

   Mozelle
by Clara Wersterfer

 
At our first meeting I heard Mozelle before I saw her. She was coming along the sidewalk in front of my house on crutches. Slung on one shoulder was a cloth bag that looked heavy. I was sitting on my porch waiting for the mailman.

Mozelle stopped and greeted me with a warm, wide smile. "Howdy-do ma'am. Would you like to buy some really good  catfish sandwiches? Jus' fried up a mess a little bit ago. They's still warm." I invited Mozelle to come have a seat on the porch. She asked would it be ok if she just sat on the steps and rested. I rushed to help her but she insisted
she could do it herself. Mozelle was missing her right leg below the knee. I didn't ask, and she didn't tell why the leg was gone. We simply made small talk for ten minutes.

I fetched her a glass of water, bought two sandwiches from her and she got up to leave. "I be back nex' week, bout this same time. You gonna be home?" she asked. "Yes, I should be here. I don't work on Saturday." She flashed me that beautiful smile and clopped off down the sidewalk.

The following week, I was waiting for Mozelle. Those catfish sandwiches were the best and I wanted to buy more. Mozelle came right on time. We had our visit and I learned
a little more about her. She was 46 years old, lived alone, had never married and took care of her mother until she passed. She never had a job except baby sitting as her mother needed her.

When her mother died her check stopped and she was short of money. A friend of hers
baited trot lines and caught the fish. Mozelle cleaned and cooked it for the two of them.
He took a small portion, she sold the rest. She rode the bus to our neighborhood.

When she was ready to leave, I offered to drive her home. She gratefully accepted. Mozelle lived in a part of town populated with other black people. The houses were mostly small little cottages, and Mozelle's was no different in size, yet it stood out because of the neat paint and profusion of flowers. She graciously invited me in for tea. I
gladly said yes. The house was immaculate with hand made doilies and embroidered scarves everywhere.

Our tea was served from a beautiful set of porcelain cups and pot. When I remarked how beautiful everything was, Mozelle spoke something I have long remembered. "My mother told me,  Mozelle, we can't always help being poor, but we can help becoming
trash. We need to be clean in body and mind and thank our Lord for whatever gifts we receive, no matter how small. A gift is always free."

It became routine for Mozelle to come by on Saturday, and I would drive her home. Sometimes we would grocery shop, allowing me to help her get the groceries in the house. It was a chore for her on the crutches. Now and again she would talk about getting an artificial limb, saying how much it would help her.

Mozelle told me that weeding was extremely hard for her due to the missing leg. I volunteered to weed once a week for her. The day I weeded and mopped her kitchen, she would prepare a meal for me to take home, and catch up my ironing. We had many laughs over her neighbors all walking past her house when I was weeding her flower beds. They looked at me curiously and said hello. Many of them asked Mozelle how she got that white girl to work for her, and drive her around. Mozelle told them "She don't work for me. She helps me and I help her. That's what friends do. They help each other."

Mozelle and I remained friends for over  two years until I moved out of the state. Before we left, I helped her to get an application for an artificial leg, taking her for several doctor
appointments. It was a sad day when we parted. We stayed in contact for a few months by mail which gradually tapered off. I did learn the application was approved for the prosthesis, but would take some time to get it.

Sometimes I think about her beautiful, warm smile, her happy disposition and never wavering faith in God to make all things right.

 Clara Wersterfer

cbwest@webtv.net

Poetry Corner

~**~**~

 ~ Wonderin ~

Tim Kevin
-
I oft wonder bout things I loved about you,
Was it somethin' I dreamed out of the blue
A soft touch I imagined was always there
Or your flippant feminine independent aire
-
Or the way you looked at me so intently
With penetrating eyes staring so deeply
Searching my soul looking for innocence
That long ago had skipped over the fence
-
Trying to find something to hold on too
Some common bond between us two
So you could control the wild emotions
That possessed us like some magic potions
-
I guess the quest has been abandoned
For things more real than those imagined
But many honest feelings did we share
As we lay awake with our souls so bare
-
Regret not those past loving embraces
When our hearts tossed off all the traces
For it was not some silly childish whim
But some need to be filled deep within
-
So the path ahead is one of determination
Not to find one's self in a similar situation
Build back high the emotional brick walls
And to not answer again if love ever calls
-
By .....  The IrishWarlock
Copyright © 01-04-05 IrishWarlock

irishwarlock@webtv.net

Readers Feedback

~**~**~

Hello Carol
I really admire Sharon Bryant as a person and very moved by her article "Miracle" I could not have written it better even if I wanted to. I agree with her entierly about the belief in God and everything else. She is more near to God than us average people. Yes there are physical bodies , that die and spiritual bodies never die. I have similar experiences with my son who died at the age of 26. I talked to my son through a medium.
Regards

S K Jandu

Here is our Storytime Tapestry Angels: Also, I would like to thank those of you who chose to be a silent angel and gave an anonymous donation to keep Storytime Tapestry up and running.

Clara Westerfer, Mark Crider, Rosanne Catalano, Paula Booher, Kay Seefeldt, Mariane Holbrook, Mary Ellen Grisham, Louise Nomani, Sharon Bryant, Angela Walker, Hart and Helen Dowd, Keith Ready, Ginger Morgenstern, Ellie Braun-Haley, Surinder Jandu, Bob Shaw, Carol Meeks, Charlotte Hilliard, Marilyn Sink, Victor Buhagiar, Clarice Hinson, Conrad