Friday Fiction - "Just Fine With Me"

Just Fine With Me

Some folks think I’m boring and, perhaps, a bit odd. I suppose I can see how they might think me peculiar. My ways are certainly different from what they might consider normal – whatever that may be.

My day begins with Tabby nudging my ear with her nose. The sun ain’t up yet, plus it’s a mite chilly. The woodstove’s died down in the night. I lie there for a bit. I hear mourning doves cooing to each other. Plit, plit sounds against the window tell me it’s raining or, at least, it had been sometime in the night. Hopefully, it was just a passing sprinkle. I have things to do.

With Tabby’s insistence, I emerge from my quilted cocoon and shuffle in my woolen stockings into the other room. Stirring up the sleeping embers, I add kindling and a log to the fire. Tabby gets some leftover fish and meows.  Opening the wooden door to let her out, I stretch my arms in the morning air. It ain’t raining, but the grass and trees sparkle. A ribbon of pink peeks beneath the dark clouds on the eastern horizon with a promise of a beautiful day.

I adjust my suspenders and step back into the cabin. It don’t look nothing like those houses in town.
My Delly kept it cleaner than I do. Although there ain’t much to clean. There’s the table and chair. There was ‘nother one for Delly, but I put it out on the porch, where I can sit and sip my coffee in the evening.
There ain’t no fancy art on the walls – just the Rollings Hardware Store calendar with a pretty photo for each month. This month has some red and yellow flowers on it.  There’s a stuffed chair, where Delly would sit and sew near the warm stove. I don’t use it none, but I can’t abide the thought of tossing it.

Delly weren’t no movie star. She wouldn’t  have won no beauty contest, but her laugh filled the room. Her hands were large, but strong. She didn’t know how to cook no gourmet foods – mostly just soups and biscuits, but it filled my belly. Her dresses weren’t made of lace and silks. She often wore trousers and boots when she walked the trails with me. No, Delly weren’t a fancy lady, but that was fine with me.

After a breakfast of coffee, biscuits, and honey, if it’s a good day, I might pull on my boots to take a hike down to the lake to see if the trout are biting. If not, it won’t matter. I can always try again tomorrow. I aim to plant a few taters and turnips when the earth warms a bit more. Last year’s supply is ‘most gone. I don’t have no grocery store nearby. I don’t need much food, ‘cept greens, berries, and fish. Oh, sometimes I get a box of oranges from my brother at Christmas. They’re nice, but not as nice as the wild huckleberries from the far side of Tucker Mountain.

I don’t have ‘lectricity or a television. I did have a radio once to listen to the happenings and some nice piano tunes, but after a while the batteries went dead. I don’t miss it too much. I don’t need to hear ‘bout all the fightin’ and political talk. I don’t have no telephone, nor even a clock. I read the Good Book and Farmer’s Almanac, plus I’ve got my banjo and Tabby, and that’s just fine with me.

Every day is much like the one before it. I like it that way. Sometimes storms liven things up ‘round here, but they always make more work than they’re worth – cleaning up broken limbs or digging my way out to the woodpile or outhouse. Once a grizzly was bound and determined to raid my stash of food. I think of that exciting day every time I chaw on his meat or shake out his skin on my floor.

Having the mail plane come in the spring is always exciting, but Henry chatters on so and asks too many questions. He reckons it’s his duty to keep me posted of world events and take as much news about my well-being as he can back to my family. It’s always nice when it’s quiet again – just me and Tabby.

Others may think I live a boring life, but it’s just fine for me.

 * * *

If you'd like to read more great short stories,
go to Sara Harricharan's website -

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