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Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Brown (11/26/09)

TITLE: The Faded Brown Leather Clutch Purse
By Debra Elliott
11/26/09


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When my mother died I had the task of going through her belongings.She wasnít rich, so she didnít have much. I just wanted to box everything up and send to Goodwill.

My mother and I didnít see eye to eye. She was an alcoholic and I gave up on her. I didnít think her life was worth much in life or in death. I was angry with her after all the years I spent taking care of her. It was suppose to be the other way around, but it never was.

When I was sixteen my father died and my mother in her alcoholic wisdom decided it was in my best interest to uproot us and move 3000 miles away from my fatherís family. I was angry with her and didnít decided to run away from home. I didnít get the chance and we made peace, but not for long.

Throughout my adulthood my mother drank. She wasnít a funny drunk, but a mean drunk and I suffered from her anger. I stopped speaking to her and even made her leave my home. I had my family to think about. I regretted my decision two years later.

I got the phone call about two years after I ejected my mother out of my life. She was dying. Since I was her only child my aunt called me. When I got to the hospital my mother was in a coma. I didnít get to tell her I was sorry for the things I had done. My mother died not knowing too I had forgiven her as well.

I packed her clothes neatly in the box for the thrift store and put her pictures in the box to bring home. I spotted the faded brown leather clutch purse at the bottom of a junk pile. Finding it brought back fond memories of my mother. Memories before her drinking bouts.

She used to keep the purse inside her dress next to her heart. I always wondered why she did that. I thought it was because she didnít want anyone to take her money, but I found out that day she kept it next to her heart for only one reason. Inside the faded brown leather clutch purse was a few old coins and a picture of me. Tears fell as I turned the picture over and saw the date. I was three years old in that picture. My mother did love me! She carried me next to her heart for thirty-three years until the day she died.


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This article has been read 316 times
Member Comments
Member Date
Laura Anne Harrison12/03/09
Your poignant, well written story brought many memories of my own mother. As the daughter of an alcoholic mother, I can relate to the feelings that you expressed so beautifully in this well-written piece.
Colin Nielsen 12/03/09
I don't normally like emotional writing, but this I liked. I think it's the distant voice of the narrator. Comes across as convincing and realistic. Well done.
c clemons12/04/09
Needs a little tweaking here and there but overall a good piece.