here's a tweaked version of the yellow morning story. let me know what you guys think.
The window over the kitchen sink always let in so much sunlight in the mornings that everything in the room glowed like I imagined the clouds in heaven did. The butter-colored tile on the counter reflected the bright morning light up to the ceiling, up into her face. My mother's face seemed illuminated from within, as she hung her head over the waffle iron. The creamy batter bubbled out from between the two iron plates, and the smell of summer Saturdays wafted into the other rooms of the house.
The Japanese tulip tree outside the window still had big blushing blossoms on it, because this was the summer we had built a tool shed in the back yard. The shade provided by the shed tricked the tree into thinking spring was nearly six months long. It was a surreal summer.
In the golden kitchen, my mother concentrated quietly on her work. It was a peaceful kind of quiet, a rare kind of quiet. Her movements from one task to another were fluid, and I realized that ten years of being a ballerina can never be taken out of a woman.
My father walked softly from the bedroom door on the other side of the refrigerator. My mother's back was to him, so she never even heard the door open. His bare feet were as quiet as a cat's on the vinyl floor, and he only had to take a couple of steps before throwing his brown arms around her waist.
Startled, she yelped loudly, and then threw her head back, laughing. She turned to see him and they kissed. Their heads eclipsed the light coming through the tulip tree branches, and she put a spot of waffle batter on the end of his nose. He smiled and released her, letting her white cotton t-shirt fall back into place. The light flooded the room again, and the butter-pad tiles bounced the warm light into their grinning faces.
At that moment, I loved them both, equally. I didn’t have to pick one over the other; I didn’t have to listen to the names they called each other when slamming the phone onto its cradle. At that moment, they were how parents are supposed to be, I couldn’t feel more lucky, or normal.
3 comments:
Very powerful Stuff!!!
Excellent imagery, as always with your writing, and you've accomplished a remarkable amount of charercter development for such a short piece.
I really enjoyed this, keep up the good work!!!
This has a very strong opening paragraph, very evocative, at least for me. Just some niggling problems:
The window over the kitchen sink always let in so much sunlight in the mornings, that everything in the room glowed like I imagined the clouds in heaven did. The butter-colored tile on the counter reflected the bright morning light up to the ceiling, up to her face. My mother's face seemed illuminated from within, as she hung her head over the waffle iron. The creamy batter bubbled out from between the two iron plates, and the smell of summer Saturdays wafted into the other rooms of the house.
I bold faced my suggestions above. The first comma isn't needed and interrupts that first sentence in my opinion. There's a typo in imagined (the "in" was left out).
Last note I had was about the preposition choices with the light. For me, if a writer says that light is reflected at or into the face of someone then they're describing a hard light or a glaring light but this scene is buttery soft, morning glow. Therefore you don't want light that's reflected at something or into someone. To implies something that is sent so that it might be received softly rather than batted at something. Small distinctions but to me they very much matter.
The Japanese tulip tree outside the window still had big blushing blossoms on it, as this was the summer we had built a tool shed in the back yard. The shade provided by the shed tricked the tree into thinking spring was nearly six months long. It was a surreal summer.
"...still had big blushing blossoms on it, as this was..." did you mean since this was or because this was? If that is what you mean, I think you should change as to because so that the sentence will be clear especially since we don't know the reason for the sentence until we read the following one. By the way, this detail is a masterful touch. The surreal summer being set up by the deceived late blooming tulip tree. I very nearly clapped when I read that paragraph.
The next paragraph is easily the weakest of the piece. I think this is because the writing seems stilted and forced. Also, I'm not sure if the hungry children exactly fit there. I know you want to get them into the scene but perhaps you could best achieve this by putting the narrator's perspective as a child more clearly into the following paragraphs and losing the weak paragraph.
Finally, this is such fine writing and sumptuous description that I have to tell you I was very disappointed by the ending. I knew of course that the happy family of the story is going to be destroyed by the end and maybe that's why the end seems anticlimactic to me but I wanted something more there. Call me greedy. LOL I would very much like to see the finished version of this. Thanks!
This revision is great. I like the ending much better this way!
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