This is a short piece I wrote a few years ago that's directly based on childhood memories. Hope you enjoy.
Moms and Dads by Patty Panni
In my small hometown, there was a Saturday morning ritual. My mom – and many other mothers – grocery shopped for the week, while their husbands sat on a bench outside the store.
There were definite advantages to being inside with Mom (I could usually get the cereal of my choice), but my favorite place was outside with the men. Someone would give me a nickel to ride the mechanical horse, then I’d wander over and listen.
* * *
“Caught a good mess of bluegill at Winona Lake yesterday.”
“I figured it was too hot this week.”
“Naw…not if you go early enough.”
* * *
“Heard they might be hiring at the bindery.”
“Yeah, Mona’s nephew got on there, on graveyard.” A collective headshake at working the graveyard shift, since most – if not all – had done it at some point to feed their family.
* * *
“Cubs play the Braves tomorrow.”
“Atlanta’s got a good team this year. I don’t hold out much hope for the Cubbies.”
“Maybe…but Jenkins has got a pretty good pitching arm.”
* * *
And so it would go…brief staccatos of speech, followed by lengthy, comfortable pauses, created a lazy cadence, a languid dance between words and silence. It was the in-betweens I liked.
The moms – at least my mom – seemed to thrive on small talk about the weather or the price of bacon, doggedly determined to fill silence with words – any words, But I craved long pauses and words unspoken.
As a child of the 60s, I never heard the word “introvert.” It wasn’t until many years later that I understood my introspective and reclusive tendencies weren’t negative and did not need to change.
Now, after all these years I finally know exactly who I am and how I’m wired…something the six-year-old me instinctively knew and accepted.
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