Wednesday, August 22, 2018

Six Sentence Stories - Mailbox

When I was young I was fascinated by the slotted box that was attached to the front of my grandparents' house by the screen door. It was different from the metal box into which our RFD (Rural Free Delivery) mail was inserted. When mailboxes became a thing in the  USA  there were no regulations concerning the size. Even a cigar box could have been a mail receptacle. 

Denise Farley of Girlie on the Edge's Blog presents the prompt each week for this blog hop where we write a story using only six sentences. I'm linking my post to Six Sentence Stories - Mailbox. Click the link so you can easily peruse the creative writings of other bloggers and their six sentence stories.




As the college student driving the yellow bus brought it to a halt by the rural mailbox, a girl about 12 years old, dressed in the attire typical of those following her same religion, awkwardly made her way up the steps into the bus now three quarters of the way filled with 12 - 18 year old students. The strong smell of onion followed her, as it did everyday after that, as she made her way toward the back to find an  available seat. 

Had she been born later on, she probably would have had the convenience of riding in a bus equipped for transporting students who had special needs. It was obvious that she was much slower in her cognitive and social skills, and lacked the ability to control some of her physical functions on occasion, much to the chagrin of those sitting near her. Some of the rougher boys, who typically sat as far away from the bus driver as they could, didn't always hold their tongue, nor their nudges and gestures when the girl had an accident. 

Sadly, most on the bus never knew her name or considered what it would have been like to have been her.


14 comments:

  1. Awww. Shows how we need more compassion in this old world.

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    1. That is so true. Regarding this type of situation, I think today's youth have been better prepared in knowing how to care and reach out.

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  2. What a sad story and yet, even in today's society with it's increased social awareness and wide spread education concerning disabilities (if it's ok to use that term), there are still some who are not in the least bit compassionate. It's so important to cultivate a culture of acceptance and understanding for those who are "different".

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    1. Oh, I recognize that there still are some who are not compassionate, and maybe to a worse degree than in the years past, but there is so much more education being done in the schools and in the homes to bring an awareness of how to be of help to those with disabilities and how to be more inclusive.

      With each generation some progress is made. In my parents' generation, those with disabilities rarely attended school. In my generation, a lot were placed in a special institution.

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  3. Way to take the reader back to best-forgotten times! lol*


    *no, I should not assume, a) that we all experienced social abuse or 2) that it was as traumatic as the memory (a book written in a time so long ago the grammar and syntax no longer is reliable) is reliable or c) wait a minute, ...no, never mind, Corollary 5.2 to the 'The Everything Rule'** "...our memories contain our realities, even if they didn't happen." covers that

    ** of the Wakefield Doctrine which states, in part, 'everyone does everything, at one time or another'.

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    1. It is strange how the mind pulls up things said or done, or for that matter, not said and not done to create a story.

      I think there is a little bit of shame in everyone, sometimes years later with the knowledge later gained, of what one could have said or done.

      I like your ** addendum. But, oh, I hope not.

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  4. That's a sad state of affairs, inclusion with no accommodations. Unfortunately it rings true.

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  5. I bet you were kind to her, though.

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    1. Unfortunately, there were few times to interact. I sat at the front of the bus, because I was one of the first stops. She got on much later, and got off at a different stop than the school I attended. A smile was all I could offer if she looked my direction, which usually didn't happen. Sad.

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