Post #79 – Women’s Memoir Writing, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett
WELCOME TO WOMEN’S MEMOIRS CONTEST VALENTINE’S DAY READATHON
This is the tenth Valentine’s Day Memoir Contest story to be published in our first-ever ReadAThon. In this blog, we’re announcing the Honorable Mention for our third category — Best Valentine’s Day. Each hour, for 11 hours, we are publishing an award-winning Valentine’s Day story.
We have four categories–
Worst Valentine’s Day
Worst Valentine’s Day Eventually Becoming Positive (Might Take Many Years)
Best Valentine’s Day
Most Humorous Valentine’s Day (In Retrospect, If Not at the Time)
and are publishing the award winners in that sequence. For each category, we publish the grand winner followed by the runner(s) up in alphabetical order.
Best Valentine’s Day: Honorable Mention
LITTLE GIRL LOVE
Kathleen Hewitt
Miss Miller’s class was on the first floor near the front door of Gridley Bryant School in the city of Quincy, Mass. The too-heavy door never shut all of the way so a cold February draft was ours. Miss Miller would crank up the heat from the radiators that we put our mittens on. There was always a battle of extreme temperatures in that room; most especially as we neared Valentine’s Day.
Miss Miller was beautiful. She had Marlo Thomas hair, huge soft pink lips and always had a sweet breath mint in her mouth. She wore sweater dresses that clung to her shape and the horizontal lines always seemed to sit on the perimeter of her breasts. There was an electric feel in that room that smelled of Miss Miller.
The night before Valentine’s Day there had been parent conferences. My father never missed a conference with Miss Miller. He must have been very concerned with me when I was in the second grade.
The room was decorated with red bursting lacy paper hearts on every windowpane and a white dish of spicy cinnamon hearts on the pencil sharpener desk. I loved the paste we used to make the Valentine construction cards that we would bring home, wiping the excess on my jeans. “To Mommy and Daddy, Love Kathy.”
On our way out of class that afternoon, lining up in our winter gear, hands full of papers, we waited for Miss Miller to pass out the list. Walking in the snow that was up over my boots, my feet frozen already, I searched the Valentine list to be sure my name was on it. Yes, there it was. She had made sure she put down ‘Kathy’ rather than Kathleen, the name from my report card, the name that usually meant I was in trouble. And number four on the list was the number one reason why Valentine’s Day was (and still is) my favorite day.
Richard Davies had such blonde hair that it was almost white. But sometimes in the morning light, it was the so soft yellow of the new chicks of Easter time. His eyes were the color of my favorite crayon, cornflower blue. His shirt was always tucked in. I could tell that his mother took really good care of him. I loved Richard and his bright white perfect teeth smile. And he gave me that smile, everyday. Tomorrow, with the most beautiful Valentine I could create, I would tell him, somehow, just how much he meant to me. I knew I was only eight years old but there was no way to stop my blush of crush, not in this overheated room.
I rummaged through my closet and every single one of my drawers looking for the perfect Valentine’s outfit. Nothing, nothing, nothing. I did, though, have my beautiful rose colored glass heart locket. I cut the little head of Richard Davies from the class picture and fit the black and white smile into the locket. No one would know, my secret. I went through my mother’s things and found a soft pink sweater with a sweetheart neck, very wrinkled, and six sizes too big. I thought maybe if I wore a belt with it, that I could pull it off. I spread it on her bed and ironed it, leaving a little burn mark under the sleeve. I’d wear it anyway.
I hung it in my closet for the next day after spritzing it with a little Emeraude and went to work on my Valentines.
In Room 22, I knew there were brown paper bags hanging on clothespins on a thick red ribbon strung across the room. Each bag had a name on it and after a Valentine treat, we would get in line and take turns delivering our cards.
But the evening before, I had rushed through my homework, not worried too much as Miss Miller had told my father that I was the most conscientious student that she had. She told him that I needed to work on raising my hand more. With each card, I would sign my name in red marker and enclose a little conversation heart in the envelope. What a cool idea this was but some of the sayings were kind of embarrassing so I had to be careful with which ones I would choose. “Need you, baby” wasn’t something that I wanted to give to Joseph Harris, my science partner. I saved Richard’s for last even though he was fourth on the list.
I took out the paste and I cut out little hearts and made accordion strips of paper for the backs of them, so that when he opened the card, the hearts would beat at him. “To Rich, love and hearts, From, Kathy.” Maybe he’d like being called “Rich”. It would be something between the two of us.
I could hardly sleep the night before thinking of what Richard might give to me. I put thirteen barrettes in my hair before I went to sleep in hopes of taming my curls for the big day. I put my mother’s Noxzema all over my face for a special touch.
My mother had made me heart shaped pancakes for breakfast. I slid a Valentine in her cigarettes. She put her hand over her mouth when she saw me in her pink sweater. Maybe I looked so nice that I took her breath away for a minute. I said, “It looks good, doesn’t it? I just had to wrap the belt around four times to make it fit.” She smiled and said that I was her beautiful Valentine. There were flurries of snow that morning as I walked to school and the smell of someone’s wood fire added to the cozy start that was my day.
Richard Davie’s mother came to the party and brought our treat, pink frosted heart cookies and fruit punch. She had laid out a red tablecloth and special cupid paper napkins. She wore a pink plaid dress with a raspberry sweater tied around her shoulders. She was as sweet looking as her son. Richard gave me a big crumbling sugar cookie smile. Miss Miller, in her ruby colored sweater dress, hand delivered her Valentines to us, with a kiss to our foreheads. I whispered to myself,”Thank you, God for all of this.”
We delivered our cards and just before the bell rang, we got to open them quietly at our desks. A funny one from Louise, a silly one from Carla, a sweet glittery one from the other Kathleen, nine others, so pretty and fun. I saw Richard open mine with a look of surprise and his face turned a little pink, his foot started tapping. He put it gently back into the envelope. Joseph Harris wrote, “To Kathy with lots of love.” I shifted in my seat. Still looking for the one from Richard, I was starting to feel worried and then the bell rang, time to go home. I shuffled through them one more time. Nothing.
We lined up and as I put on my coat, the belt on my sweater slid down over my eight year old hips to the floor. I picked it up and shoved it into my pocket. My scarf wound gently around my neck and over my locket, close to my heart.
Disappointment was heavy on my shoulders as I walked home, the snow really coming down now. He mustn’t have checked each card off like Miss Miller said to, so as to be sure no one was left out. Warm tears ran down my cold blushing cheeks.
I ran into my bedroom after taking off those bright red rubber boots that I hated and emptied out my Valentine bag. I sucked on a cherry Valentine lollipop that my friend Matilda had given me; that was nice. I counted the cards, mentally figuring out how many had been given. Maybe one of mine slid into another’s bag by mistake.
And there it was. A small pink envelope. How did I miss this? There were little pink ‘K’s drawn all over the corners with a glittery marker. There were stickers of hearts with messages on them. There was even one that smelled like cake if you scratched it. And at the point where the envelope closes, there was a velvet ‘kiss’.
I threw off my coat, propped myself against my pillows, fingered my locket and opened it slowly and there between my cinnamon candy stained fingertips, I held a most beautiful Valentine. I closed my eyes for a few seconds and breathed deeply. The scent of rose petals from the Valentines of my future filled the room but nothing would compare to this.
It said, “To Kath, the prettiest girl I ever saw. Love always, Your Secret Admirer, aka, Rich.”
