PhotoPrompt Monday: The Stone Angel

From Delores at "myfeatherednest"

Every Sunday without fail, Catherine Henner drove twenty-five miles to Hatfield Cemetery.  With a jam jar of garden flowers, Catherine found the headstone marked “Butchart” and the stone carved angel. 

Placing the flowers at the base, Catherine would pause to pray for this nameless baby buried beneath.  Then Catherine would walk over the grassy graves back to her car.

Catherine did this for years.

One day, another lady introduced herself as “Eleanor” and asked about her weekly trips, as she herself made Sunday pilgrimages to her mother’s grave and had seen Catherine.  “Is this little one from your family?”

Catherine pondered the question.  “Yes, I guess she is.”  Seeing Eleanor’s perplexed expression, Catherine explained.

“When my grandmother was dying, she told me about this tiny grave here in Hatfield, of her first-born baby girl who lived only an hour.  She made me promise to visit this grave every Sunday.” 

“So sad when a baby dies.  Your Grandmother Butchart must have loved this little girl very much.”  Eleanor called after Catherine as she walked away.

Catherine stopped and turned around.  “Butchart was her maiden name.  We never knew about this baby she had when she was fourteen, after she was raped by a cousin.” Catherine sighed.  “Yes, it is sad.”

Sorry to take such a dark turn here.  This was something I told about long ago, about something that happened before I was born.  A mother never forgets her baby, no matter what.

Please check out http://mybabyjohn.blogspot.com  from where the above photo came.

Mama's Blue Car

Delores from 'thefeatherednest' posted this PhotoPrompt for Monday!

My daddy got this old car back in ’45 after the War, and it was all black.  Black and rusted.  Mama stood on the front porch and tap-tap-tapped her foot.

“You ain’t gonna keep that thing, are you, Henry?”  She demanded.  When Mama talks like that, you know that Daddy don’t stand much of a chance.

Daddy, he could allus think quick, like a cat in mid-pounce.  He gave Mama the biggest ol’ smile and said, “Why, no, Peachy!” 

That’s what Daddy call Mama, when he in big ol’ trouble.  Peachy.  Don’t rightly know what that mean, but she softened a bit around the corners.

“Well, what you gonna do with it, then?”  Mama took a step down to the grass.  She looked over that grand black car like it was covered with burrs and stunk like skunk.

“I been thinkin’ about this, Peachy,” Daddy sauntered up to her, and wrapped his arms around her waist in a soft hug.  “I’m athinkin’ that this old black car needs to be painted.  Why, we gonna paint it blue like the sky.  And when we go drivin’ down the road, people gonna say, ‘Why there goes Miz Burrows in her blue car!  Ain’t that sumthin’!”

So that’s what we did.  We painted that rusty black car sky blue.  Daddy did that for Mama.  And she smiled.