The Hinge

>> July 23, 2010

Today is Friday Fiction and is hosted by Christina at Pen in Hand...

I decided to re-work one of my earliest Faithwriter challenge entries. (My second one) This is when I introduced my Grandma Mimi in fiction, Dot. It was good for me to see how much I've improved, rewriting this some. I hope it makes you smile.

♥ ♥ ♥

Dot shuffled through the kitchen and gulped the last swallow of coffee bottoms up style. She wiped the dripping liquid from her mouth with her well-used sleeve, and placed the cup in the already overflowing sink.

She peered out the dirty window, a toothless grin spread across her face. “It’s a beautiful spring day,” she declared to the air. “Gonna get my rubber boots on and start gettin’ my garden ready.”

Dot hummed a made up tune and donned her favorite straw garden hat, rubber boots and headed out the front door. The screen door slammed shut and Dot looked over her shoulder annoyed. 

“Dagnabit!” Dot scowled at the offending object. “I’m gonna hafta fix your hinge yet?” 

She opened and closed the noisy nuisance a few times. The top hinge had come loose and needed to have a screwdriver taken to it. When she let go of the door she noticed that it banged on the outside of the frame, not landing in it’s intended groove. 

“Been gettin’ worse all winter long, the wind a knockin’ ya around. Well, spring is here and it’s time to shake loose the winter glum-drums.” She mumbled and began to rummage through a pile of odds and ends on one end of the porch in search of a screwdriver. 

Dot straightened up suddenly, (as straight as her old spine allowed) and held a stack of plastic mini muffin containers from the bakery. “Oh yeah…I forgot about these. They’re perfect for startin’ my tomatoes.” 

Excited about the thought of fresh tomatoes in the not-too-distant future, Dot held her hand on the catch-in-her-get-along spot on her hip and waddled out to her shed in search of seed packets and potting soil. She opened the rickety door slow, and waved her arms in the air to wipe down any spider webs that might be in the way. She wiped her way to a string tied to a chain in the middle of the shed. A quick pull to turn on the light and… “click”…
no light. 

“Dagnabit!” She stomped her foot. “Light’s burnt out.” Still on spider alert, she waved her arms and headed out into daylight. “Forgot that light burnt out last summer,” she mumbled to herself on the way to the house. 

Slam! The screen door banged. Dot gave it a stern stare while she rummaged for a bulb and waddled her way back out to the shed.

Morning slipped away while Dot happily hummed and mumbled in the musty old shed, filling the plastic trays with dirt and seeds. She lined the finished products in the window where they would be greeted by the warm spring sun.


“Me thinks thou doth protest,” Dot patted her complaining tummy. “Let’s go have lunch.”
Slam! This time the screen door slammed so hard the screws to the hinge came completely out of the door frame. Focused on her hungry tummy, she didn’t even bat an eye at the noise. 

With her lunch plate piled on top of breakfast dishes that were piled on top of…well a whole week’s worth of dishes, Dot grabbed a bag of potatoes off the table and scooted towards the door. She opened the screen door and plopped the bag on the porch to prop the offending bugger open. 

“No more banging from you today.” Dot shook her finger at the torn screen.

Long after the sun had gone down, Dot sat with her feet up and smiled contentedly. She had dirt under her nails, a sign of satisfaction. The wind blew and the screen door flapped quietly against the ten pound doorstop. She would hunt for a screwdriver tomorrow.

Sometime in the middle of the night the wind howled and escorted in a doozy thunder storm. By morning the sun burned bright and plump red breasted robins happily hunted fat worms and bathed in puddles. Dot downed the last of her coffee, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, masterfully stacked the cup atop the pile in the sink, and gazed out the dirty kitchen window.

“Two days in a row in the garden…how much better could it get?” Her toothless grin spread wide. Anxious to feel the warmth of the spring sun, she donned her straw hat, slipped into her rubber boots, and swung the door opened.

“What in Tarnation…?”

Caught by the wind, the neglected screen door had ripped off the remaining hinges and landed in the middle of the garden. Dot kicked the bag of potatoes with her rubber-booted toe, threw her hands in the air, and declared, “Dagnabit!

6 comments so far...Care to leave your thoughts?:

Laury 7/23/2010  

I love your Dot character. You describe her perfectly. I sure wish some kind neighbor would fix her door for her;) The way she gets so distracted sure does remind me of someone. :)

Stina Rose 7/23/2010  

I really enjoyed this. Thanks for sharing it with us!

Joanne Sher 7/23/2010  

SO cute and fun, Mari!Love that lady.

Catrina Bradley... 7/23/2010  

I remember Dot. :) I'm not quite her age, but I seem have spent more than one Saturday distracted and captivated by whatever ELSE gets my attention.

Sherri 7/24/2010  

Nice one, enjoyed the character, especially.

Rita's Random Ramblings 7/25/2010  

Love Dot and looking forward to reading more about her.

Miss Megan! Hugs, Rita

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