Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Bri couldn't wait any longer; he knotted up a purple tie this evening. His choice was the textured violet silk with creamy Swiss dots in martial array. Wednesday evenings bored him, but he could do exactly nothing about it. He was too little to stay home alone, his mother said, and the stern finality in her voice warned him away from any argument. As she packed up her sewing bag, he stuffed a rucksack full of toys. At the schoolhouse, the warm yellow light shone through the windows. Already, a dozen women were bent over the big quilt rack, their sharp needles piercing the stretched fabric, the threads rising and falling with the hum of their voices. He crawled underneath, lay on his back, and opened his toybag to pull out few biplanes. With the deep purple of the quilt above him serving as the sky, each stitch a star, he flew missions and sorties until the war was over.
Brought to Life by Nance at 10:43 PM