Just Wanted To Tell You A Bit About Annie…

A gold band on her ring finger. Engraved orange blossoms nearly unrecognizable. Barely a hint of a design. I had known Annie to wear it always. Her mother’s wedding ring. The band represented something that never was to happen for her. Engaged the once. Annie’s father broke it off so she would care for him after her mother’s death. A woman’s role. A woman’s job…

The Civil War had ended not long before Annie’s birth. In fact, just a matter of a years. How was that possible? A curious vantage point as I reflect on the span of my own life. I knew Annie for the last 16 or 17 years of her life and the beginning of mine.

A low bun neatly done, daily. Silver hair pins strategically placed. Hidden from plain sight. The exception was summer. The only time other than waking Annie early did I witness her waist length hair. White with a warm golden hue and the occasional gray strand.

Copper rain barrels just outside the front of her house collected the many drops for summer shampooing. Washing and drying her long tresses aided by the warmth of the sun. A rural privacy afforded her as our road was quiet then. Dirt not paved. Farmland by the many acres was dotted by only a few homes.

Dresses and hose. Every day. No pants. Ever. Printed muslin dresses. A cotton full apron worn always. Delicate flowers in pinks…