A Bit of Brightness
by: T.D. Edwards
Cynthia would have pitied people who lived in this house, but she was tired of feeling sorry for herself and her goddaughter. Nevertheless, she couldn’t stand to look at poor excuse of a home day after day.
Walking across the sidewalk and approaching the ragged front door, she felt something hard underneath her foot. She looked down, expecting to see that she had stepped on a rock or something of that nature. Instead, she found a little piece of colorful chalk. Her eyes traveled along the sidewalk, seeing hopscotch patterns and drawings. Obviously some children had been enjoying themselves this afternoon.
To be a carefree child again, she thought.
Why they insisted on playing in front of her crumbling old house was a mystery to her. If she were a child, she would have thought the place to be haunted and would have kept her distance from it. Apparently, the neighborhood kids didn’t see things that way, or perhaps they were just too brave for their own good.
This was a source of annoyance for Cynthia. As if the house wasn’t already a pathetic sight, she did not need the constant litter in front of it. Sighing in frustration, Cynthia picked up the piece of chalk she had stepped on, and then made her way up the creaky steps of the front porch. She pulled her keys out of her purse and opened the front door, which was in the serious need of repainting.
The corners of her mouth turned downward as she thought of how she could not afford to get the house repainted just now.
Maybe if I worked overtime for a few weeks…or took a second job…
She stepped into the house and closed the door behind her. Flicking on the living room lights, a heavy silence surrounded her. The house was unnervingly empty and it was too late for this to be so…
“Justine?” she called out, walking into the living room. Her nerves rose as the stretch of silence continued to seep through the house.
“Justine!” she called louder, throwing her purse on the dirty couch and making her way cross the room.
For a moment, Cynthia stood in the middle of the dining room with her hands balled up in fists at her hips. Her face frowned in concentration.
Had Justine told her something about not coming home right away after school? Did she have to go somewhere? Was she supposed to pick Justine up from some after-school program?
Cynthia closed her eyes, trying to let the morning replay in her head. She had followed the usual routine. She got up, dressed for work, and drove Justine to school--but was there something she was forgetting?
Cynthia sighed. Of course her mind was coming up blank. She just was not cut out for raising a kid. Yes, she had been the godmother, but that was an entirely different responsibility. She just babysat every now and played with Justine. Her best friend had been the one actually responsible for the child. So when Cynthia had been granted legal custody over her, it was more than a shock. She knew that Justine wouldn’t want to live with anyone else. Justine loved Cynthia best after her mother, so of course she agreed to take her. Cynthia loved Justine to pieces.
That didn’t excuse the fact that Cynthia was young, had never taken care of a child before, and now had a 9-year-old on her hands. And it didn’t help that the 9-year-old was surprisingly difficult to keep up with.
Cynthia walked into the kitchen, flicking on the dull light that hung from the grease-stained ceiling. She let out yet again another sigh, though this was one of relief. Lying in the middle of the old shaky wooden table was a note.
Thia,
I went over Andrea’s house to do homework. Her mom will drive me home after dinner. See you later.
Love,
Justine
Cynthia smiled. She didn’t know why she had actually gotten so worried. Justine had become accustomed to her less than perfect memory. She always left notes to reinforce what she had likely already told Cynthia. She was a good kid.
And Cynthia constantly felt that she owed Andrea’s mother. She was a lifesaver. It wasn’t exactly easy to fix a meal in this kitchen of hers. She was sure TV dinners couldn’t exactly be giving Justine the proper nutrition she needed.
Too tired to do anything else, Cynthia went straight to her room. There was a lot to think about, but her mind felt drained. She didn’t want to think…
She didn’t want to think about how Justine needed money for a class field trip. She didn’t want to think about the hurt look on her face if she had to tell her that she wouldn’t be able to go.
Her worries just seemed to intensify as the grimy walls surrounding her made her feel trapped and helpless.
Why did I buy this house? she thought to herself.
Echoes of the truth floated through her mind. It was because her small apartment had not been big enough for her and Justine. She had to buy something bigger, even if it was falling apart like this house. She still didn’t have the money to fix it up yet. It was driving her insane.
It was then that she noticed her hands were still balled up. She could feel the tension and stiffness in her knuckles. She opened her fists and was momentarily surprised to find a piece of chalk in one of them. Somehow she had managed to forget that she had been holding it all this time.
Cynthia flopped down on her bed and threw the piece of chalk at the wall. Several long seconds passed while she sat in silence. She stared at the spot on the wall where the chalk had hit. The streak of bright chalk stood out tremendously on the wall. It looked so out of place, with the rest of the wall, the rest of the house for that matter, being so dingy in comparison. Cynthia found herself laughing…
Before her mind had even registered what she was doing, she picked the chalk up from the floor and started adding to the streak. She almost felt like something had taken over her as she doodled designs all around it. Surprisingly, the design became more and more intricate…
Cynthia took a step back, examining her abstract creation. She had no idea what it was, but something about it made her smile. Perhaps it was a sun peeking over the horizon, or maybe it was the moon sparkling over an ocean…
Whatever it was, it filled her with a sense of calmness. It was like a piece of brightness in her very dingy life. She set the remaining bit of chalk on her dresser. With one more look at the design, she curled into her bed and drifted off to sleep.
Cynthia didn’t realize how long she’d been sleeping. She had felt dead to the world for several hours; it was the best rest she had gotten in a long time. She sat up and stretched, realizing that she was still wearing her work clothes. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Surely it was well into night now.
Well that’s just great, she thought. Now I’m wide awoke. What am I going to do now?
In an instant, her thoughts turned to Justine. Was she home yet?
Cynthia turned on her bedroom light and immediately found an answer on the wall. Where she had her burst of creativity earlier, there was now a new picture. This picture was indeed of the sun, shining through a set of clouds. Among the clouds was a set of angel wings. Underneath it, were two stick figures---one being a woman with short hair and the other being a little girl with ponytails.
The nine-year old artist even had the nerve to sign her name under the picture. A wide smile spread across Cynthia’s face. As far as she was concerned, this picture was an absolute masterpiece.
The piece of chalk was in a different location of her dresser now. Cynthia picked it up and headed out of her room. Quietly, she crossed the hall, pausing before Justine’s door. She peeked in and found the little girl sound asleep in her bed.
Cynthia walked into the room and turned on the light. Justine was such a sound sleeper; she knew the light wouldn’t wake her up.
Justine’s room could use a little brightening up, Cynthia thought. Then she set to work drawing a picture to give Justine something to smile at when she woke up.
A bit of brightness in a heap of dreariness could go a long way.
Walking across the sidewalk and approaching the ragged front door, she felt something hard underneath her foot. She looked down, expecting to see that she had stepped on a rock or something of that nature. Instead, she found a little piece of colorful chalk. Her eyes traveled along the sidewalk, seeing hopscotch patterns and drawings. Obviously some children had been enjoying themselves this afternoon.
To be a carefree child again, she thought.
Why they insisted on playing in front of her crumbling old house was a mystery to her. If she were a child, she would have thought the place to be haunted and would have kept her distance from it. Apparently, the neighborhood kids didn’t see things that way, or perhaps they were just too brave for their own good.
This was a source of annoyance for Cynthia. As if the house wasn’t already a pathetic sight, she did not need the constant litter in front of it. Sighing in frustration, Cynthia picked up the piece of chalk she had stepped on, and then made her way up the creaky steps of the front porch. She pulled her keys out of her purse and opened the front door, which was in the serious need of repainting.
The corners of her mouth turned downward as she thought of how she could not afford to get the house repainted just now.
Maybe if I worked overtime for a few weeks…or took a second job…
She stepped into the house and closed the door behind her. Flicking on the living room lights, a heavy silence surrounded her. The house was unnervingly empty and it was too late for this to be so…
“Justine?” she called out, walking into the living room. Her nerves rose as the stretch of silence continued to seep through the house.
“Justine!” she called louder, throwing her purse on the dirty couch and making her way cross the room.
For a moment, Cynthia stood in the middle of the dining room with her hands balled up in fists at her hips. Her face frowned in concentration.
Had Justine told her something about not coming home right away after school? Did she have to go somewhere? Was she supposed to pick Justine up from some after-school program?
Cynthia closed her eyes, trying to let the morning replay in her head. She had followed the usual routine. She got up, dressed for work, and drove Justine to school--but was there something she was forgetting?
Cynthia sighed. Of course her mind was coming up blank. She just was not cut out for raising a kid. Yes, she had been the godmother, but that was an entirely different responsibility. She just babysat every now and played with Justine. Her best friend had been the one actually responsible for the child. So when Cynthia had been granted legal custody over her, it was more than a shock. She knew that Justine wouldn’t want to live with anyone else. Justine loved Cynthia best after her mother, so of course she agreed to take her. Cynthia loved Justine to pieces.
That didn’t excuse the fact that Cynthia was young, had never taken care of a child before, and now had a 9-year-old on her hands. And it didn’t help that the 9-year-old was surprisingly difficult to keep up with.
Cynthia walked into the kitchen, flicking on the dull light that hung from the grease-stained ceiling. She let out yet again another sigh, though this was one of relief. Lying in the middle of the old shaky wooden table was a note.
Thia,
I went over Andrea’s house to do homework. Her mom will drive me home after dinner. See you later.
Love,
Justine
Cynthia smiled. She didn’t know why she had actually gotten so worried. Justine had become accustomed to her less than perfect memory. She always left notes to reinforce what she had likely already told Cynthia. She was a good kid.
And Cynthia constantly felt that she owed Andrea’s mother. She was a lifesaver. It wasn’t exactly easy to fix a meal in this kitchen of hers. She was sure TV dinners couldn’t exactly be giving Justine the proper nutrition she needed.
Too tired to do anything else, Cynthia went straight to her room. There was a lot to think about, but her mind felt drained. She didn’t want to think…
She didn’t want to think about how Justine needed money for a class field trip. She didn’t want to think about the hurt look on her face if she had to tell her that she wouldn’t be able to go.
Her worries just seemed to intensify as the grimy walls surrounding her made her feel trapped and helpless.
Why did I buy this house? she thought to herself.
Echoes of the truth floated through her mind. It was because her small apartment had not been big enough for her and Justine. She had to buy something bigger, even if it was falling apart like this house. She still didn’t have the money to fix it up yet. It was driving her insane.
It was then that she noticed her hands were still balled up. She could feel the tension and stiffness in her knuckles. She opened her fists and was momentarily surprised to find a piece of chalk in one of them. Somehow she had managed to forget that she had been holding it all this time.
Cynthia flopped down on her bed and threw the piece of chalk at the wall. Several long seconds passed while she sat in silence. She stared at the spot on the wall where the chalk had hit. The streak of bright chalk stood out tremendously on the wall. It looked so out of place, with the rest of the wall, the rest of the house for that matter, being so dingy in comparison. Cynthia found herself laughing…
Before her mind had even registered what she was doing, she picked the chalk up from the floor and started adding to the streak. She almost felt like something had taken over her as she doodled designs all around it. Surprisingly, the design became more and more intricate…
Cynthia took a step back, examining her abstract creation. She had no idea what it was, but something about it made her smile. Perhaps it was a sun peeking over the horizon, or maybe it was the moon sparkling over an ocean…
Whatever it was, it filled her with a sense of calmness. It was like a piece of brightness in her very dingy life. She set the remaining bit of chalk on her dresser. With one more look at the design, she curled into her bed and drifted off to sleep.
Cynthia didn’t realize how long she’d been sleeping. She had felt dead to the world for several hours; it was the best rest she had gotten in a long time. She sat up and stretched, realizing that she was still wearing her work clothes. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Surely it was well into night now.
Well that’s just great, she thought. Now I’m wide awoke. What am I going to do now?
In an instant, her thoughts turned to Justine. Was she home yet?
Cynthia turned on her bedroom light and immediately found an answer on the wall. Where she had her burst of creativity earlier, there was now a new picture. This picture was indeed of the sun, shining through a set of clouds. Among the clouds was a set of angel wings. Underneath it, were two stick figures---one being a woman with short hair and the other being a little girl with ponytails.
The nine-year old artist even had the nerve to sign her name under the picture. A wide smile spread across Cynthia’s face. As far as she was concerned, this picture was an absolute masterpiece.
The piece of chalk was in a different location of her dresser now. Cynthia picked it up and headed out of her room. Quietly, she crossed the hall, pausing before Justine’s door. She peeked in and found the little girl sound asleep in her bed.
Cynthia walked into the room and turned on the light. Justine was such a sound sleeper; she knew the light wouldn’t wake her up.
Justine’s room could use a little brightening up, Cynthia thought. Then she set to work drawing a picture to give Justine something to smile at when she woke up.
A bit of brightness in a heap of dreariness could go a long way.
Copyright © Teri Edwards 2009