That Wednesday...

  • Thursday, April 24, 2014

Spring had come early to my small southern town. When I woke up I could smell the many flowers that had burst forth in the warm weather right outside my open window. I jumped out of bed and went to the closet for my lucky Wednesday dress. And letís face it I needed all the luck I could find. It wasnít there and off I went flopping down the hall in my ever faithful bunny slippers and innocently asked mother about the dress. It seems that I had ripped out most of the hem and I might be amazed to know she had other things to do besides repairing my misdeeds. Honestly there were times when I gave her such a headache and tried her patience. So I trudged back to my room to find a replacement for the lucky dress. Mother picked the dress I had carefully hidden for a lot of reasons, the main one being, I hated the dress. No ribbons to match it so I just had rubber bands on my pigtails. This was wrong, just plain wrong. I went to the kitchen knowing that my favorite Wednesday sandwich of peanut butter and banana would make up for the dress. But at my place was a bowl of shredded wheat, clearly a Mondayís breakfast. How does one run out of peanut butter on a Wednesday?

This was wrong just plain wrong. Then I found that my lunch was in a paper bag not my favorite lunch box which mysteriously was full of glue - another story - and clearly not my fault. I was beginning to dislike Wednesday with all my heart.

Walking to school I saw my bestest friend walking with a new girl. I called to them but they just waved and didnít wait. This was wrong, just plain wrong.

I was late for school because I stopped and told the Thomasí dog how badly my day had started so of course my name was put on the chalkboard. A check mark followed when I loudly demanded to know who had their stuff hanging on my hook. The second check mark came when I expressed my criticism of my reading groupís story. From the reaction of Mrs. Brown, my fourth grade teacher, you would have thought she had written the story. It seems that I tried her patience. A lot of that was going around.

After recess Mrs. Brown looked at me and gave a sigh heard twenty miles away. She wrote something on a paper, folded it, handed it to me and sent me to the Principalís office. It seems my staying for the math lesson would result in a terrible headache for her. I volunteered that those headaches seemed to be going around because I had given my mother one that morning.

I got home and received the usual lecture that the only time my sister, better known as Saint Anne, went to the principalís office was to receive awards for reading the most books in the whole wide world or finding the cure for some dreaded disease. I never could remember which

Even a sophisticated fourth grader needs to seek solace from a faithful old friend. So Herman my lion with a slightly broken tail and I sat on my bed and I told him all about what had happened. We both agreed that this day had been wrong, just plain wrong.

Brenda Loyd Allred grew up in Summerville when it was a very small town. She now lives at Franke at Seaside with her husband Les.

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