six

(6)

She woke with a start, confused by where she was.  Quickly sitting up in the bed, she looked around and breathed a sigh of relief. Sunlight streamed through the window above the bed and danced across the floor.  She glanced at her phone – 9:20 a.m.  Her first night in the cabin had provided some much needed rest.  A prayer of thanks passed through her lips.  She had worked until long past sundown the night before, determined to get the white slat board walls and old barn wood floor cleaned enough so she could put the bed together.   

Yesterday morning during a quick trip into town for some necessities, she had happened upon a charming little antiques shop.  Mentally declaring that a break would do her some good, she pulled the old truck over and parked.  The little shop was packed floor to ceiling with goodies that most would call junk but to her, priceless treasure. Even if you were unsure what you were looking for, you could find it here.  She smiled as she remembered the little incident that took place while she was there.  She had been in the back looking at aprons and as she headed back towards the front of the shop something flicked across her foot.  She pulled her foot back quickly and stifled a scream. There, sitting calm and pristine in front of a dish of water was a very regal and very handsome black cat.  His tail had flicked towards her about the time she went to step down and had, she was quite sure, purposely brushed her foot.  His green eyes gave her a look that both laughed at her discomfort and demanded a pat on his kingly head.  She smiled and breathed a sigh of relief thankful that she had taken time to read the little poster on the door that warned of the possibility of fur-baby greetings.  Giving him a small bow, she moved towards the counter to pay for her purchases that included a small Jadite bowl sporting a chip in the bottom, some gorgeous vintage sheets with tiny red roses and a beautiful white chenille bedspread.  The green-eyed shop owner, whom she was quite sure had been a cat just moments before, grinned at her and made a bit of small talk as he wrapped her purchases up, asking that she return soon.  She assured him that she would most certainly be back.

Her purchase of bedding gave her the excitement she needed to make the final push to get the cabin ready to move into.  On the way back to the campground, she stopped by the laundry mat.  The old sign out front proclaimed it to be the “Wash-O-Matic”.  It, like the antique shop, was pure vintage charm.  It reminded her of the one she had sort of worked in growing up.  The mother of her then best friend managed the laundry mat in town.  Fearing nothing short of us tearing the house down, we often ended up at work with her. For the nominal fee of an egg sandwich from the drive-thru next door, we would even consider working.  Goodness, the memories.  The old harvest gold washing machines holding their metal hands out for silver coins before they would churn the days dust from your clothes.  Walls lined with dryers, double stacked turquoise monsters that made a whirl and whip sound with each tumble.  She often got lost in her thoughts while she watched those clothes tumble in circles.  One dollar and twenty cents in dimes guaranteed your clothes to be dry in the first cycle.  She could still see the moms with their paper coffee cups filled with change jockeying for prime position – a four-plex of dryers directly in front of their chosen folding table, their toddlers climbing across the plastic waiting room chairs, hanging from the metal bars underneath the tables and when no one was looking riding the roll around metal baskets down the aisle.  Thinking about that made her smile.  She didn’t take the time to run the dryers today…..no, today, she would take the damp bedding home and hang it to blow in the breeze.  She couldn’t wait to slip between sheets that smelled of sunshine. 

Waiting for the wash to dry, she pulled the old iron bed out on the front concrete and gave it a good wire-brushing and then a quick coat of ivory paint.  Chastising herself for being too impatient to let the paint dry, she headed back into the little kitchen to fill up the mop bucket with sudsy water.  She had been cleaning the cobwebs out of a corner when an old memory came back to her.   Some close friends had pulled an old iron bed, much like the one she was working on, out of an old homestead up the road from them.  One had to look past the rust and grub to see the beauty it had once been.  In fact, there had been some talk about whether it was worth the time it would take to restore it.  She knew it would be.  Beautiful rosettes and leaves had been intertwined in the metal.  Not sure how the bed had ended up in the old homestead, probably a gift for work done.  The gentleman that had lived there did odd jobs around the neighborhood to earn his livelihood.  She imaged that it had once been ivory in color and fit for a small princess.  Hours were spent cleaning, sanding and painting and in the end it was beautiful.   She had envisioned painting those rosettes in water colored rose pink but in the end left it with the clean look.  It was hard to see it loaded up in the truck and carried away but it looked beautiful in the little girl’s room for which it had been purchased. 

Shaking her head to clear the memory, she went about putting the bed back together.  She was glad that it had been late in the evening and that any neighbors she had were far enough away to miss the dragging of the mattress and box springs from the storage trailer.  She was quite sure un-mentionable words might have been spoken.  Once inside though, she started dressing the old bed.  She put a red-fitted sheet on the box spring and then covered that in a lace bedskirt.  The red of the sheet underneath peeked thru the lace.  Next she added the white fitted sheet with the little red roses.  Very delicate.  Adding the top sheet to match and a white velour blanket, her one splurge, she smoothed her hand over the top to remove any wrinkles and gave the mattress hospital corners.  Next, she added the white chenille bedspread, much like one she had when she was growing up.  She dressed the pillows, two sets, one in red roses and the other in red.  Folding down the spread so everything peeked thru.  It needed something.  She quickly ran back up to the little camper and pulled the old red and white checked quilt from the bed in the back.  Once back in the cabin, she spread it out across the end.  Perfect!

It had been a good day and a restful night.  But, she’d layed in bed long enough.  Evvie-Lou had insisted that she come to her house this afternoon for a barbeque/meet & greet and she had been reminded….repeatedly…..that she owed her a skillet apple pie for cleaning the bathroom.

 

(as always....the memories may or may not be my own.....)

Enjoy!

jen