Myra Jean had never entertained any thoughts of making friends in this backwater. Yet now she had invited the music teacher to her room to listen to music. She looked around at the small space. There was a radio that rarely received anything but static. A ticking clock on top of the bureau next to the wardrobe. One chair for a guest, a small body of literary works on a shelf, the narrow bed with its white chenille spread, and her beloved Victrola. She looked out the window and saw birds arise from the trees, ascending like her spirit.
The three words for the JusJoJan prompt (body, thoughts, arise) are from a handout from a workshop on “Writing from the Body” by Marylee MacDonald at Mesa Public Library.
[…] Carter-Ann sighed. “Times are hard for everyone…” “But she’ll keep her big-city radio and Victrola till the cows come home,” Clementine interjected. “And those books! I declare, she […]
[…] Myra Jean examined the cup placed before her on the slightly chipped saucer. It was the boardinghouse best, Confederate-era china, hand-painted with blossoms resembling fireweed. “I’ve saved this chicory from my last visit home,” Lucinda Ryan explained. As Myra Jean stirred in honey and milk, always plentiful here, the color changed to a murky gray. The first sip was better than expected, especially compared to the usual Postum and acorn concoctions. “My folks always drank this, even before the Great War.” The two women cradled their cups in both hands, warming their fingers. “I remember coffee,” Myra Jean said. […]