Magpie #30.....

Apple Imperfect.....
Outside on the clothesline hung two loads of laundry gently flapping in the breeze; the sagging lines being held up by long boards with a nail sticking out close to one end to keep the clothes from dragging on the ground. As she hung them she had mentally made note of the items that needed a button or a seam repaired, not to mention several items brought back inside to go into the soaking bucket due to stains that hadn't come out. She carefully settled herself into an overstuffed chair in the sparse living room to ease her aching back. It wasn't only her back that ached; her feet ached, her shoulders ached and even her heart ached . The house was filled with the fragrance of freshly baked apple pies. That also had taken up a good portion of her morning; picking washing and peeling the apples from the tree in their backyard. The apples were never perfect, having brown spots and wormholes here and there on each one. It seemed that nothing was ever perfect in her life, she thought bitterly.

As her eyes drifted over the shabby furniture in the old farmhouse, she could pick out and name a hundred things that were imperfect just in this room. A stream of afternoon sunlight cut through the room, tiny particles of dust and lint floating in the beam of bright light. Like a performer with a spotlight focused on him, the cat lay in the halo of warm light created by the sun, having dreams of his own.

Content.

She stared at him for a few minutes. Content because he knew nothing more. Should she be content for the same reason, she pondered. How could she be. Although she had never known real discomfort like some unfortunate souls, she knew of pampered lives. She had read about the luxuries the rich could afford, having everything you could possibly want. She had seen the pictures in magazines of the rich and spoiled. She closed her eyes for a minute and let herself dream of what life could be like under those circumstances.

She allowed herself only a few minutes of this idleness and then pulled herself up from the chair and trudged into the kitchen to check on the pies. While waiting for them to finish baking, she took a warm sudsy dishrag and washed off the oilcloth covered kitchen table, noticing that it was beginning to flake in spots. Another imperfect thing she thought to herself and felt a disgusted look come over her face as a puff of air left her lips. Her gaze fell to the floor and took note of the cracked linoleum. It was clean....or as clean as she could get it, but it was faded and worn as well as cracked in more than a few places. She idly wondered how many footsteps it had taken to get it in such a condition.

She took the pies out of the oven and set them on wire racks on the counter to cool. They smelled delightful, even though the apples had not been perfect. She leaned against the back door frame and looked out through the bowed out screen with the cotton ball in the center of it. How ugly that was and yet it was rumored to keep flies away and so it was done. She watched her two children playing on the tire swing that hung from the huge oak tree. In her imperfect world, they were perfect. More than perfect....and she felt a smile creep across her lips.

She checked on the roast simmering in the pot on the stove, replaced the lid that didn't quite fit and glanced at the clock. Soon her husband would be home from work and then it would be time for supper. Supper. Clean up. Then sit in the living room and listen to the radio. Then bedtime.

Routine. Simple. Plain. But, oh-so-perfect in its routinely plain simplicity and she realized that she could not fault it because the imperfection was.....without question....beautiful.

And....fulfilling.

She brushed back a wisp of hair from her forehead with the back of her hand and began to set the table with her mismatched silverware as the children squealed with laughter, the dog barked playfully and the clothes flapped lazily in the warm summer breeze.

~ Inspired by a photo displayed in Magpie Tales ~