I’ve tried to recreate this scene many times. Starting with a very strict (and looooong) poem form that murdered it. and slowling working it’s way into a prose format. the problem is that it’s a very personal, emotional, and powerful story, so it’s very hard to keep from being sappy. especially when the one line that I want to build it around can very easily be the most sappy.
so this is the best I’ve done so far. I’m not at all satisfied with it, but I have to say it’s come a long way. please give me some ideas on what I can do to improve. If there was one piece of work that I want perfect, this would be it.
It Was a Boy
The baby died days after birth. Premature; complications arose. Its lung popped, just days after birth. It barely had a name. The mother’s name was Ingerd. Our town lost its hope when they heard, “just days after birth,†but they tried to comfort her with broken faces. She called her friends together to help with the funeral—my mother was asked to sew the casket lining. It was an honor to help a friend.
The local store sold select fabrics. A small collection. No other store was close enough to visit, so my mother swallowed her frustration and bought the best she could. “Green apples,†she told me, “it looked like a cheap wall covering for a teacher.†But it was the only child-like pattern. So she sewed it—with as much love as she could muster, to try to make it better. She was ashamed of how she failed her friend.
In tears, she presented the lining to Ingerd, “I’m so sorry,†she said, “this is the best I could do.â€
In tears, Ingerd took the lining and my mother. “Don’t be sorry,†She said, “Where I come from, Green means hope.â€