crystal and sweet violin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thelinesoflearning) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
rainbowfic2013-06-11 10:00 am
thelinesoflearning) wrote in rainbowfic2013-06-11 10:00 am
Entry tags:
Halloween Orange
Name: Morgan
Story: No Child is Spares
Colors: Halloween Orange 3, "Nothing in my pocket but a hand and a prayer."
Supplies and Styles: N/A
Word Count: 698
Rating: G
Warnings: Talks about being poor, so if that's a problem for you best to avoid.
It's at fifteen that Dave really begins to understand, once his health starts improving and his body catches up to where it should be. The bills have built up too high to completely go away, but the medicines themselves aren't as numerous or constant, and maybe one day they'll conquer the bills too. Now that he can breathe, now that he doesn't live in constant fear of catching another cold or breaking something, now that he doesn't watch Ma weigh every ache or cough against the fear that it'll get worse versus the worry that they'll waste the money on close calls and next time it will be worse – now he feels like he can take on the world without flinching.
And at the same time, now that the constant saving for possible emergencies isn't an excuse and he's starting to think about college, he's suddenly starting to understand.
He's never thought of himself as poor before. They didn't have much, but they didn't starve. He got his medicine, even if sometimes it was tough. They had a roof over their head. That's not poor, right? You've got shelter and food on your plate; be grateful for what you've got. That's not poor, that's getting by.
He never thought about it. He never thought hard enough about how Ma, and Teddy's Mom, couldn't talk about anything else when they finally got old enough to babysit and make themselves a little money. He never thought about taking hand-me-downs from family friends or passing off his already-worn clothing to a neighbor when he grew out of it.
He never thought about it. Somebody else always has it worse, right? People had it worse than him. He just never realized how many people would count his family, Teddy's family, everyone in the building, on the block, as 'somebody else'.
He starts to pay attention when he's fifteen.
He realizes how often food only barely stretched far enough, that more often than he'd noticed it falls a little short and Mom pretends she'll eat later so that he doesn't see how little she has. He realizes just how hard it had to be for her to let him cook, that the hesitance before teaching him something new was never about him – it was about the dough they couldn't afford to throw out if he got something wrong, the meal they'd have to eat anyway if he misunderstood, the recipe he saw in Ma's old book and wanted to make without realizing how much they'd have to get.
He's always loved his mother, but the day he realized how much she scraped by to give him what he needed – to give him what he wanted on top of the basics – he loves her more than ever.
His mother loves him. His mother is proud of him. Dave's never questioned that; he knows it in his brain and his heart. He knows it down to his bones. He'll never have to do anything to make his mother happy, he just has to be there.
But it's at fifteen, sitting on the porch and finally understanding just how much she's done for him, that he knows he has to give her back just as much someday. Not to make her proud, but because he owes her that much.
(Years later, nearly two decades later, David hugs his mother on the lawn of the house he's bought her. Neither of them care that they're crying, that they still have to go inside, that Teddy's getting it all on film.
For the first time since he was fifteen, Dave realizes that he'll never have to worry about money again. That between savings and investments and the money the bakery continues to bring in and knowing that if all else fails Teddy can support both of them now, if he's smart, he'll never have to be poor, he'll never even have to want. That his mother never has to scrimp or save or go hungry to make sure her son has antibiotics, or dinner, or shoes that aren't falling apart.
It's not a kind of life they know how to live, but it's high time they find out.)
Story: No Child is Spares
Colors: Halloween Orange 3, "Nothing in my pocket but a hand and a prayer."
Supplies and Styles: N/A
Word Count: 698
Rating: G
Warnings: Talks about being poor, so if that's a problem for you best to avoid.
It's at fifteen that Dave really begins to understand, once his health starts improving and his body catches up to where it should be. The bills have built up too high to completely go away, but the medicines themselves aren't as numerous or constant, and maybe one day they'll conquer the bills too. Now that he can breathe, now that he doesn't live in constant fear of catching another cold or breaking something, now that he doesn't watch Ma weigh every ache or cough against the fear that it'll get worse versus the worry that they'll waste the money on close calls and next time it will be worse – now he feels like he can take on the world without flinching.
And at the same time, now that the constant saving for possible emergencies isn't an excuse and he's starting to think about college, he's suddenly starting to understand.
He's never thought of himself as poor before. They didn't have much, but they didn't starve. He got his medicine, even if sometimes it was tough. They had a roof over their head. That's not poor, right? You've got shelter and food on your plate; be grateful for what you've got. That's not poor, that's getting by.
He never thought about it. He never thought hard enough about how Ma, and Teddy's Mom, couldn't talk about anything else when they finally got old enough to babysit and make themselves a little money. He never thought about taking hand-me-downs from family friends or passing off his already-worn clothing to a neighbor when he grew out of it.
He never thought about it. Somebody else always has it worse, right? People had it worse than him. He just never realized how many people would count his family, Teddy's family, everyone in the building, on the block, as 'somebody else'.
He starts to pay attention when he's fifteen.
He realizes how often food only barely stretched far enough, that more often than he'd noticed it falls a little short and Mom pretends she'll eat later so that he doesn't see how little she has. He realizes just how hard it had to be for her to let him cook, that the hesitance before teaching him something new was never about him – it was about the dough they couldn't afford to throw out if he got something wrong, the meal they'd have to eat anyway if he misunderstood, the recipe he saw in Ma's old book and wanted to make without realizing how much they'd have to get.
He's always loved his mother, but the day he realized how much she scraped by to give him what he needed – to give him what he wanted on top of the basics – he loves her more than ever.
His mother loves him. His mother is proud of him. Dave's never questioned that; he knows it in his brain and his heart. He knows it down to his bones. He'll never have to do anything to make his mother happy, he just has to be there.
But it's at fifteen, sitting on the porch and finally understanding just how much she's done for him, that he knows he has to give her back just as much someday. Not to make her proud, but because he owes her that much.
(Years later, nearly two decades later, David hugs his mother on the lawn of the house he's bought her. Neither of them care that they're crying, that they still have to go inside, that Teddy's getting it all on film.
For the first time since he was fifteen, Dave realizes that he'll never have to worry about money again. That between savings and investments and the money the bakery continues to bring in and knowing that if all else fails Teddy can support both of them now, if he's smart, he'll never have to be poor, he'll never even have to want. That his mother never has to scrimp or save or go hungry to make sure her son has antibiotics, or dinner, or shoes that aren't falling apart.
It's not a kind of life they know how to live, but it's high time they find out.)
no subject
no subject
no subject