The Alone Girl, Part Deux

A slice of fiction…

The girl ambled down the long road.  Long past twilight, she looked forward to getting home and eating dinner.  The darkness during the winter months seemed to possess an extra layer of inky blackness.  But the girl didn’t mind because she loved the razor sharp quality of the air.  When it was really cold, the girl sometimes wondered if her nostrils would freeze shut.  It felt like they would.

Though a staunch tomboy, the alone girl took sewing lessons.  These lessons were given in a young woman’s home, a distance of over a mile from where the girl lived.  Sewing lessons had replaced swim team for the tomboy.  The girl missed the swim team but it was a co-ed team and she had reached her feminine maturation during the beginning of the sixth grade.  It was difficult to explain why she missed practices each month, so after the sixth grade the girl left the swim team..  Plus she was the only girl her age with a pronounced bosom.  She could tolerate being teased but on top of the verbal spewings from her brother, she chose not to put herself in a position to be teased.  After all as the decade changed from the 60’s to the 70’s, the female population was still a non-entity.

The alone girl didn’t like to sew.  Her mind wandered too much and she lost track of her desire to sew straight seams.  She spent a great deal of the time ripping out her mistakes.  And it was okay.  Mostly she just wanted the company of her sewing teacher.  Now here was a female who was ahead of her time.  Born with a congenital condition in that the lower half of her body never developed, this young woman thrived by concentrating on the skills she possessed with her hands.  It seemed she could craft anything.  She was also a patient and caring teacher who didn’t mind that the alone girl didn’t like to sew.  Betty sat in a makeshift-type of wheelchair, one with a large shelf on which her craft materials lay.  Her hands were gifted, sure and strong.  And she never seemed to mind the childish chatter that emanated from the girl’s mouth.

Betty recognized a kindred spirit, another alone girl.  Alone girls were never lonely because they had so many interests.  Alone girls could be very outgoing and humorous.  Alone girls felt things far more deeply than their peers.  Alone girls could recognize, without difficulty, other alone girls.  And alone girls were content to be alone together.

About thequarryschild

A self-described forensic junkie, Beth Anderson spends her days shaping young minds to ask critical questions and wonder “whodunit.” Beth resides in the Capital District of New York and spends her free time reading and solving the great mysteries. Her love of swimming, tennis and sports provides the basis for one of the lead characters in her new book The Quarry’s Child. Beth is one of the founding members of the Upper Hudson Valley Chapter of Sisters in Crime (aka Mavens of Mayhem), a graduate of the FBI Citizens Academy, a survivor of a visit to an active aircraft carrier while it was at sea, and a published poet in Soundings, a literary journal. Beth continues to instill a love for mystery fiction in her students as she has for over twenty years. Photo credit: Quinn Mulvey
This entry was posted in Change, childhood, friendship, gender, learning experiences and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The Alone Girl, Part Deux

  1. Lori Dyndor Curtiss says:

    thoughtful and real…loved it

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