Posted by: Jonathan Polson | 8th Nov, 2012

Journal #3 – My Mother Used to Have…

Burroway ‘Try This’ p. 12

-Make use of these prompts or trigger lines for easy freewrites. Pick one of them— quickly; don’t think about it too much— write it down and keep writing. Anything at all. Whatever the prompt suggests. Keep going. A little bit more.

 

My mother used to have…

 

My mother used to have this beautiful gold watch that she would keep in her jewelry case that could only be opened with a special key and kids like us weren’t allowed to go in. She wouldn’t wear it often, but every once in a while a day would come where she would unlock that small brown box and move her hand through the music expelled and pull out the glistening wristwatch.

It had a small, metallic band that sat on her skinny wrist with a little room to move up and down her forearm. I loved watching it loosely slide across her skin as she wavered through the house. She wore it as she cleaned and the glass face would catch the light and shoot stars all around the room.

One day I asked her where she got it from and her lips pursed and her eyes squinted and I thought she was going to cry, but she just quietly said, “Someone very special gave it to me.”

I asked her if it was dad and she said no and stood up and told me to go clean my room. I never asked her about her watch again.

She hasn’t taken the watch out in a while now, though every day I hear the music of that jewelry box singing from her room. I think dad might have asked her to stop wearing it after I told him that someone gave mom a really pretty watch and that he should buy her something nice like that for her birthday, but not a watch because she already has a nice one. He didn’t seem very happy. Not happy like I get when I think about the watch.

I hope my mom starts wearing her watch again because whenever she put it on it was like her whole body turned gold. Not her skin, but she was always really happy when she wore it and I think she shined extra bright. Maybe I just liked the way the watch made a ball of light dance along the walls.

Either way, I miss my mother’s watch and I miss my mother wearing her watch. And sometimes I wish I had the key to her jewelry box so I could open it and put her watch on and listen to the music in the box rather than the yelling downstairs.

 

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