Ruthie
Believe it or not, I'm sitting in my chaise at high
noon. The first part of my writing equipment has arrived. So I
have spent the morning arranging the room for comfort and efficiency.
I'm still a decorator, and much consideration was given to that
aspect. I've placed the wicker chaise so that I view the whole
room. It was really where I wanted the computer to go, but it
just didn't work. It's being placed where a desk should go, but
I had to sacrifice the view. What view? My head would be on the
keyboard and the monitor. Therefore sitting in the chaise facing
the city will do just fine for my long handwriting.
I never anticipated that I would be able to write and use the
computer. This room is so pleasant at any time of the day. From
where I'm writing in my chaise, I can see my little brass bed
where Ruthie also sits looking out at the city. Ruthie is a doll
I bought once at a black senior citizen's center. Tom was insisting
that I buy a doll. Way up on the top shelf, she was sitting with
red boots, a red and white polka dot dress, a pink barrette that
hid one of her eyes, and a camel hair coat. Her hair was darker
red, and she reminded me of one of my sisters years and years
ago. She had lots of character and I pointed to her and I said
to the man at the counter, "I'll take her." This was now getting
frustrating. First I don't even want to buy a doll, then one of
my selections has been sold and the other they don't want to sell.
Well, the man took her down so I could hold her anyway. There
was a tag inside her coat pocket. I took it out. It said "Ruthie."
When I saw that, I told the man, "You must sell it to me, that's
my name." Ruthie, from that day on, has meant a lot to me. The
man did sell her to me and since then her look-- that barrette
that tilts to one side, her crossed legs, her arms that flop on
her sides-- is familiar as she sits and gazes out over the city.
She wonders too sometimes about her new surroundings. She reminds
me of my grandmother, who used to look out the big bay window
in her kitchen. My grandmother was to move at least three times
after leaving her home with the big bay window. Yet she sat and
looked at all her different surroundings with the same look. Looking
and waiting for someone to come up the driveway, or just watching
the people pass by, or the rain and sun. I can't ever remember
her looking sad in any of those windows, just like Ruthie. My
grandmother wore a barrette all the time, even when she was in
for the day. My Dendee ladies' tree plant is in the other corner
of the room. When I first saw that plant, I didn't think I could
live with it. I've become very fond of that plant too. This summer
I purchased an old wash bucket. I filled it with ivy and put it
in front of the fireplace that lies at my feet here as I write.
Yes, this room is getting to look more and more like Leonard Bernsteins'
Manhattan apartment, rich with rubies of my own past.
Copyright; Ruth
Mahoney Friday, September 30, 1988
